Armageddon
by criminalxxxmindsxxxfreak
Summary: Sequel to "Beauty the Beast" Ever wondered what Martha did during the Year that Never Was? What Torchwood was up to? What the BAU, CBI, Sam and Dean and Santa Barbara's famed psychic detective were doing? What about NCIS and Sherlock? Time didn't just stop for that year after all. Multiple fandoms band together to fight the Master's control over earth. Violence and implied torture.
1. Part I: Utopia: Chapter One

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "The Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **This is a sequel to "Beauty, the Beast" and I have to say I am quite proud of that story. Many, many thanks to everyone who read/alerted/favorited/reviewed "Beauty, the Beast". I thoroughly enjoyed myself writing it and I am happy to announced that I *plan* on writing many more sequels in this universe as well.

But first, how 'bout I get to the story at hand. This is a **SLIGHTLY** AU version of the events in "Utopia" "The Sounds of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords". I say slightly because it is definitely going to end pretty much exactly the same, however, I've added Spencer Reid into the TARDIS and I will spend a great deal of time showing Martha's journey during those last episodes as well.

It starts off at the beginning of "Utopia", directly after the events of "Beauty, the Beast".

The **main focus**, of course, is Reid, the Doctor, Jack and Martha's family on the Valiant with the Master and Martha's journey across the world (which is how she would meet said people). Basically I decided showing Martha's journey in more detail is a good opportunity to toss CBS characters and BBC characters into this post-Apocalyptic universe. (An idea given to me by _**KMW1968**_ which I have grabbed onto whole-heartedly.)

So, as a side note, this fic will contain **cameos** and **larger appearances** from the rest of the **BAU** (Hotch, JJ, Garcia, Morgan, Prentiss, Gideon and/or Rossi), members of the **NCIS** team (Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, Abby, Ducky), members of **Torchwood** (Gwen, Owen, Tosh, Ianto), members of the **CBI** (Jane, Rigsby, Lisbon, Cho – this is set before Van Pelt's time, unfortunately, but I may include her anyway) and members of **Sherlock** (Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, Molly, etc.)

If you haven't seen/don't watch these shows don't worry too much about spoilers. I promise not to give anything away and if you don't know the characters you can treat them as OCs, just understand that they aren't mine, they are the creations of someone else entirely.

Please review! (And I apologize for the long a/n)

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part I: **_**Utopia**_

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

The TARDIS engines whirred loudly as she landed just outside of the Millennium Centre in Cardiff. Reid and Martha watched, confused smiles on their faces as the Doctor practically danced around the controls, pulling levers and pressing buttons.

"So, what are we doing in Cardiff?" Martha asked, "Bit tamer than I'd expect from you."

"Ah, well you see, the thing about Cardiff is it's built on a rift in time and space… It's like, California and the San Andrea's fault. The rift bleeds energy and every now and then I open up the engines, soak up the energy and use it as fuel."

"So the rift is like your own personal gas station?" Reid asked, raising a brow.

"Exactly. Should only take about… hmm, twenty seconds," The Doctor said, pausing with a surprised look on his face. "Ooh, the rift's been active."

Martha frowned, something nagging in the back of her mind. Suddenly, she remembered, "Wait a minute… They had an earthquake in Cardiff a couple of years ago, was that you?"

The Doctor frowned, "Bit of trouble with a Slitheen," he said, avoiding actually looking at either Martha or Reid as he continued in a slow sort of mumble, more to himself than to either of them. "A long time ago… Lifetimes. I was a different man back then."

He glanced toward the monitor on the console and pursed his lips, the tiniest traces of a frown on his face.

"What's a Slitheen?" Reid asked curiously.

"Oh, well… Big green aliens. 'Bout eight feet tall. Tried to start World War III and nuke the entire earth to sell it on the Black Market," the Doctor explained, still dancing around, fiddling with the controls.

"Black Market?" Martha frowned, "You're telling me there are people out there that would pay to have a destroyed planet?"

"Mhm, 'course there are," the Doctor said, as if that should have been entirely obvious. "Gotta run their ships with something. The Earth would make good fuel you know."

"So why not try to use another planet then? An empty one?" Reid frowned, "Why would they go after Earth instead?"

"Well back then you didn't have a whole lot of knowledge on aliens… Made you easy targets. Plus, they didn't even need to provide their own fire power. Just fake an alien invasion, get the nuclear launch codes from the UN, attack another country, they fight back and it's World War III, everyone dies and the Earth is radioactive chunks of fuel,"

"You're talking about what happened after that spaceship hit Big Ben," Reid said, frowning. "The news said that was just a hoax."

"Can't believe everything you read in the papers…" the Doctor said, "Anyway, saved the day, then when we came back to Cardiff ran into one of the Slitheens and, well, there was a bit of trouble, like I said, sent her home and that's the end of it."

"We?" Martha frowned, raising a brow.

The Doctor glanced at her, like he was trying to decipher that odd hitch in her voice, but was completely unable to. "Rose and Me, yeah, of course. Well, and a couple of others. Captain Jack and…" he paused, realizing it was a better idea to not mention Mickey, not after Martha had met him. He was still trying to figure out how the two of them had ever gotten married. It made no sense.

He skipped around to the other side of the controls, "_Finito! _All powered up," he said, glancing at the monitor again, his eyes going wide and then scrunching together, an odd combination of uneasiness and confusion.

"Are you okay?" Reid asked, taking a step forward. The Doctor just nodded and flipped another lever, grinning brightly as the TARDIS engines began whirring again. Reid thought he looked suspiciously relieved and started to ask him if he was really okay, but the TARDIS shook and a small explosion knocked them all over.

Reid ended up on his backside, head clanging against the metal floor, Martha slid back and forced herself up and the Doctor nearly stumbled into the console, grabbing hold as Reid struggled to sit up properly.

"What was that?" Martha asked, leaning over to look at the monitor, confusion and fear in her eyes despite her best efforts to calm her rapidly beating heart.

The Doctor didn't answer for a moment, putting his foot up on the console for balance as another small explosion sent smoke and sparks flying at them and Reid stumbled over to where they were, watching the monitor himself and wishing that he could read Gallifreyan.

"We're accelerating," the Doctor said, eyes wide with that strange combination of absolute perplexment and fear. "Into the future. The year one billion… Five billion. Five trillion… Fifty trillion? What?"

Reid and Martha stopped watching the monitor and started watching the Doctor's face, worry on their own faces. Whatever was happening had clearly never happened before and the Doctor had no idea what was going on. Around them the TARDIS was still shaking and they were all holding onto the console to keep from tumbling around the control room.

The Doctor was leaning close to the monitor, face scrunching up in disbelief, "The year one hundred trillion? That's impossible!"

"Why is that impossible?" Reid asked, watching his worried face.

"What happens then?" Martha asked, her eyes trained on him as well.

The Doctor glanced between the two of them, face still full of disbelief and confusion, "We're going to the end of the universe,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The TARDIS slowly stopped shuddering and they released the console, Martha and Reid watching the Doctor anxiously as he looked around the slowly calming TARDIS. Their jolting, rollercoaster ride came to a gentle, if a bit bumpy, stop as the ship landed.

Martha met Reid's eyes and glanced at the Doctor, "Where are we? What's out there?"

The Doctor looked unsure, dark eyes looking around ominously, "I don't know,"

Reid looked surprised, "I never thought I'd hear you say that,"

For just a moment, the Doctor looked worried, eyes clouded and uncertain. "Not even the Time Lords came this far," he said, more to himself than to either of his companions. He took a breath and Martha and Reid waited, wondering if he was going to flip the controls and take off again.

"We should go," he said slowly, the words sounding so very foreign coming out of the Doctor's mouth. "We should… really, go."

Reid raised a brow, not believing the Doctor was actually going to leave such an opportunity behind. An unexplored world, hundreds of questions unanswered, just buzzing around in his mind and the Doctor was going to abandon ship? Not the Doctor he'd met, that was for sure.

And suddenly, the Doctor's face broke out into a huge grin, his dark eyes lighting with all the excitement of a child and he hurried toward the doors, grabbing his coat. Reid smiled and he and Martha followed closely behind him, each just as excited and curious as the Doctor to see what awaited them in this unknown and unexplored world.

It was dark out, no sign of a sun and only a very few remaining stars speckling a pitch black sky. It looked to Reid like they'd landed in some desolate waste land, no sign of life ahead for miles at least. He turned to the Doctor, about to ask him if anything looked familiar when Martha gasped and raced towards what he'd first mistaken as a rather large rock.

"Oh my God!"

Martha was kneeling beside the man, turning him over and pressing her fingers against his neck for a pulse, shaking her head, "I can't get a pulse… Hang on, you've got the medical kit thing!" She was on her feet again, racing back into the TARDIS for the kit. The Doctor moved toward the body, a sad look on his face, "Hello again," he whispered, shaking his head and stepping closer, wincing.

Reid finally got a good look at the man's face, his own gasp of surprise startling the Doctor.

"Jack!"

The Doctor turned to frown at Reid, "You know him?"

Before Reid could answer, biting his lip to keep from saying "Of course!", Martha burst back out of the TARDIS with the kit, trained fingers working nimbly as she approached, pushing a stunned Doctor and silent Reid away.

"Get out of the way!" she snapped, kneeling down, pulling out the stethoscope and leaning over to listen for a heartbeat, breath, any sign of life at all.

"Don't bother," Reid stopped her before she could really do anything, "Just… step back,"

Martha frowned, brows scrunching together as she looked up at Reid, "What are you talking about? What's wrong with you two?" She frowned, crossing her arms and staring up at the two immobile men in front of her. She'd have thought they'd be just the least bit concerned about a dead man lying just a few feet from the TARDIS.

Reid glanced at the Doctor, chewing his lower lip, "There isn't anything you can do," he said. "Right, Doctor?"

Martha frowned, "What d'ya mean? Do you know him?"

The Doctor nodded, "Used to travel with him, in the old days…"

Martha blinked, lowering the stethoscope, frowning, "But… he… _How_…?"

"How did he get here?" Reid asked, "I thought he was in Cardiff…I mean," he frowned, again swallowing his words. He wasn't sure how much the Doctor knew at this point; he certainly didn't want to say anything that could create a paradox of any kind. He was beginning to understand how difficult this must've been for "future" Martha.

The Doctor eyed Reid with a small, thoughtful frown, calculating that information and tucking it away for later examination. "Must've clung to the outside of the TARDIS, road with us through the Time Vortex… That's very him," he said, a surprised smirk on his face as he gazed down at the prone body.

Martha was still confused, a sad look on her face as she glanced back at Jack, "I'm sorry, but he's dead. I can't get a heartbeat, just… nothing."

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth the apparently dead body suddenly jerked, a loud, pained gasp escaping his lips as he lurched forward, eyes opening wide. Martha screamed as his flailing hands grabbed onto her arms and she turned to stare, wide eyed at the man.

"Well so much for me! Don't worry, I've got you," she tried to comfort him, every nerve in her body shaking as the man gasped for breath. Reid and the Doctor watched in relative silence, neither seeming to be too surprised at the sudden resurrection of their friend.

After a moment, he seemed to calm down and he met Martha's eyes, smiling a bit, "Captain Jack Harkness," he said, grin growing more confident as one of his previously shaking hands reached up to brush her cheek. "And _who _are you?"

Martha couldn't help blushing a bit, looking down as she smiled, "Martha Jones,"

"Nice to meet you, Martha Jones,"

"Oh don't start!" the Doctor snapped rolling his eyes. Reid couldn't stop the grin that spread across his lips at the sight of Jack flirting. It was so good to see the man, even if he hadn't actually met Reid yet.

"I was only saying hello!" Jack snapped, giving the Doctor an annoyed glare as Martha helped him to his feet, still blushing a bit. He grunted and grimaced as he stretched his tight muscles, breathing a brief sigh of relief before spotting Reid and straightening up, another cocky smile twisting his lips as he eyed the young agent up and down.

"…Whoa," he said, "Doctor, I knew you liked the pretty girls, but pretty _boys_?"

Reid felt his face heating a bit, thinking about Morgan for an odd moment. "Spencer Reid," he said, a tiny smile on his face.

Jack's eyes were bright, "Very nice to meet you, Spencer," he said, starting to holding his hand for Reid to shake. The Doctor immediately intervened, pushing Jack's arm away and frowning at him.

"Hands off,"

Jack somehow managed to both glare at the Doctor and smirk at the same time, "Why, is he you yours?"

They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Jack's face went a bit rigid and his eyes a bit cold, "Doctor," he nodded slowly.

"Captain,"

"Good to see you,"

"You too, same as ever… Although… Have you have a bit of work done?" The cold, tension in the air disappear somewhat and the two men visibly relaxed by a fraction.

"You could talk!" Jack said, motioning to the Doctor's entire body with an incredulous look on his face.

"Hm? Oh, the face! Regeneration. How'd you even know it was me?"

Jack smirked shaking his head, "Well, the police box kind of gives it away," he said, "I've been following you… Looked for you everywhere."

He paused, eyes going cold again, his next words partly snarled as Reid and Martha listened in apprehensive silence.

"You abandoned me,"

The Doctor chose not to react, face blank as ever. "Did I? Busy life. Moving on,"

Jack swallowed roughly, seeming to take the answer in and realizing it was probably the best answer he'd be getting from the Doctor anytime soon. "…I have to ask… Canary Wharf. I saw the list of the dead. Rose… is she…?"

"Oh, no, sorry! She's alive!"

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, "You're kidding!"

The Doctor was grinning now, but there was something sad in his eyes. Reid looked away, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on something private. Martha looked vaguely annoyed. Apparently they couldn't meet anyone from the Doctor's past with it brining up _Rose _again. What was so special about her anyway?

"Parallel world, safe and sound," the Doctor said, "And Mickey. And her mother."

Jack was slowly grinning, that cold tension almost entirely gone now. "Oh, thank God!" he rushed forward and hugged the Doctor, happier than he could really describe. Reid smiled a bit, shaking his head. He'd heard a lot about Rose Tyler from "future" Martha and Jack when they'd met. He wished he'd gotten the chance to meet her. She was apparently someone incredibly special, though the Doctor hardly ever mentioned her.

Martha looked dejected, sighing and shaking her head, "Good ole Rose," she muttered bitterly. Reid edged closer to her and smiled softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She met his eyes for a moment and smiled back, glad there was at least one person there who wasn't fixated on the Doctor's old flame.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"So," Jack said, turning to glance at Reid, "How did you two meet?"

They were walking down a dark path, shrubs and brush the only signs of any life in the godforsaken landscape. There weren't even bugs. The Doctor was walking a few feet ahead of them, listening to the conversation and injecting his own input every so often. Martha had already told her story about meeting the Doctor on the moon, the Judoon and the Plasmovore with her bendy straw. Now it was apparently Reid's turn.

"Oh," Reid frowned, looking over at the Doctor and biting his lip, "Well, that's a little bit complicated. I met _this _regeneration a couple of days ago… Martha and the Doctor showed up claiming to be consultants on a case."

"Case?"

"He's an FBI agent," Martha said, smiling slightly.

Jack's eyes got that interested sparkle, "Hm, that explains the holster… Thought it was just a really sexy accessory,"

Reid blushed again and the Doctor gave Jack a harsh look, "Jack, stop it."

Jack sighed, "What? I can't make conversation?"

The Doctor just glared at him and Jack sighed, shaking his head and turning his attention back to Reid. "So he and Martha helped solve the case and he offered you a trip?"

Reid smiled, nodding. "Basically," he said, "But… well, it was… a lot more complicated than that,"

Martha snorted, "You can say that again… Never thought I'd see future me, even traveling with the Doctor,"

"You met yourself?" Jack sounded vaguely jealous as he glanced over at her, "What was she like?"

Martha shrugged, "Dunno," she said honestly, "I didn't really get to talk with her much. Really liked my hair that way though," she reached up to touch her hair, a thoughtful frown on her face, "I wonder what made me decide to change it…"

Jack smiled, "You met yourself and the thing you focused on was the hair?"

Martha smacked him playfully, "No! But it's not like I had a chance to talk to her… me," she shook her head, sighing, "There was a lot going on. We were fighting an alien serial killer, getting kidnapped and shot at and the Doctor wasn't helping matters. He was in a foul mood the entire time."

She rolled her eyes and shot the Doctor a pointed look, which he promptly ignored. "And then there were his headaches," she motioned toward Reid, "_That _was really interesting."

"Headaches?"

Reid nodded, "I… I'd been having headaches for a few months and they were getting worse," he explained, "The Doctor figured it was someone putting a block on my mind and he tried to undo it…"

He trailed off and glanced to the Doctor, who seemed to be doing his best to ignore the conversation at hand. "And when he did all these memories started coming back," he said slowly, "Memories of the Doctor and Martha. I, well, I'm not sure exactly what happened, but somehow the Doctor accidently crossed his own Time Stream and… things happened and then t- someone tried to erase my memory of it happening, which caused my headaches."

Jack frowned, looking thoughtful, "So you've met him before then? Just… in his future?"

Reid nodded, "A future regeneration," he said, briefly looking away, "You were there too."

"I was?" Jack's interest peaked and he grinned, "I don't suppose you could tell me anything, could you?"

"No!" The Doctor interrupted, frowning at them, "Absolutely not! We can't risk it." He glanced to Reid and there was a pained look on his face that clearly said he desperately _wanted _to risk it and hated not knowing when the answer was right in front of him. But he stoically reminded himself of the dangers involved in foreknowledge and trudged on, shaking his head.

Jack frowned, but shrugged it off and they followed after the Doctor.

"So, what about you, Jack?" Martha asked curiously, "You said he abandoned you. What happened?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Jack had Reid and Martha enraptured with a tale of murderous game shows and a deadly battle with Daleks as they continued down the – still entirely void – path in the dark. The Doctor only speaking every now and then to correct Jack whenever he got a fact wrong.

He was, not surprisingly, tense when Martha demanded to know why he'd abandoned Jack. Reid, personally, would've liked to know that answer as well. The Jack he'd met hadn't mentioned the Doctor abandoning him and apparently there were no hard feelings about it, but he'd still like to know. It came as no surprise to him, the fact that the Doctor had left many companions behind. He'd seen the Doctor's life for himself, he entirely understood the nature of a relationship with the Time Lord and how dangerous it could be.

"Oh she was blonde!" Martha muttered sarcastically at a comment from Jack, shaking her head, "What a surprise!"

The Doctor, apparently having heard enough of their banter on the subject, turned around frowning, "You two look around you! We're at the end of the universe! Right at the end of knowledge itself and you're busy… _blogging_! At least Spencer has some sense to be interested in his surroundings rather than my past!"

Martha and Jack fell silent, realizing they'd hit a nerve and Reid bit his lip, jogging to catch up with the Doctor as he turned and walked off in a new direction, toward the edge of what Reid thought was a cliff.

"You shouldn't be too hard on them," he said quietly, "It's not their fault."

The Doctor was stiff, nodding, "I know,"

Reid rolled his eyes, "It's not your fault either, Doctor,"

The Doctor smiled a bit, "Just how well did you get to know the future me anyway?" he asked, turning to glance at him.

Reid sighed, shaking his head, "Well enough," he said, "Apparently your mood swings are nothing new."

"Oi!" The Doctor frowned, "I don't have mood swings!"

Jack snorted as he and Martha rejoined them, "Says who?"

"Wow!" Martha cut the Doctor off before he could answer, staring over the edge of the cliff and down into the cavern bellow. What looked like a market or a city had been carved into the rock face, buildings and stairways dotting the vast space.

Reid's hazel eyes shone brightly as he looked over the edge, "Is that a city?"

The Doctor looked thoughtful, "A city or a township or a conglomeration… It's empty now. Must've died out years ago." He looked up at the near pitch sky, pointing up, "Look at the sky; that's not just night. All the stars have burned out. Fading away into nothing."

"They must have some sort of atmosphere shell," Jack said, looking around the barren city, "We should be frozen to death by now,"

"Well," the Doctor glanced at the former Time Agent, "Martha, Spencer and me, maybe. Not so sure about you, Jack,"

Jack glanced at the Doctor and frowned, looking away quickly as Reid leaned forward and toward the edge, "What about the people? Do you think anyone survived?"

"They can't all have died, can they?" Martha asked, "Not if they've built that atmosphere shell thing."

The Doctor looked a bit skeptical, "Well, I suppose…" he looked at Martha's eyes and couldn't bear to say what he really thought: that finding life this far into the future, in a place this void and obviously nearing collapse, seemed impossible. "We have to think life will find a way. Somehow."

"He's not looking too bad," Jack said, a faint smile on his face he looked down into the deep bowl of the deserted area, pointing to a lone man, running at full speed over the rocky terrain. For one brief second the four of them smiled, thrilled to see that they weren't, as they all suspected, the only living things on this near dead planet. But then they spotted the rough, angry looking group chasing after the man, carrying what looked like weapons and torches in their hands as they ran.

The Doctor frowned, "Is it me or does that look like a hunt?"

* * *

**~DW/CM~**

* * *

**A/N: **So there it is. The first (fairly lengthy) chapter of "Armageddon". I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! Nervous about Jack, first time ever writing him! Hope he was in-character.

And for clarification, this story will be broken into five parts, as follows:

**Part I: **_**Utopia**_

**Part II: **_**The Sound of Drums**_

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

**Part IV: **_**Last of the Time Lords**_

**Part V: **_**The Kids Are Alright**_

Parts I and II will be brief, only a few chapters each (I'm aiming for about three each), Part III will be the meat of the story, not sure how long it'll be, but it'll be lengthy. Part IV will be the conclusion, probably two or three chapters in length. Part V will be short as well, though I'm not sure exactly how many chapters I plan for it. It'll be an epilogue sort of thing.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please review!


	2. Part I: Utopia: Chapter Two

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for the reviews/alerts adds! You guys are amazing and I'm glad you're all excited for the sequel (I know I am). Lots of action on the way. Nervous about this chapter because it's my first time writing the Master. Most of the dialogue from him is lifted from the episode and it's really only a short little scene, but still nervous about how I did.

And since I forgot to mention this last chapter: special thanks go to my awesome friend Laura (**SlasherrGirl**) who provided the covers for "Beauty, the Beast" and "Armageddon". Aren't they amazing? XD

Also, feeling pretty proud of myself. I wanted to get "Utopia" finished in three chapters and actually managed it in two (had to do a bit of squeezing and wrote an extra-long chapter, but still)! So Part II: The Sound of Drums begins next chapter and once "The Sound of Drums" is finished I'll get on to the REAL fun.

Hope you enjoy and please review! Your reviews make me smile!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part I: **_**Utopia**_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

The four of them took off running back down the hill, trying to catch up with the man. Martha struggled along behind them, almost tripping over rocks and gravel as she went. Jack and the Doctor were a few feet ahead and Reid lagged only a bit more behind them, glancing back to make sure that Martha was keeping up alright.

As they ran they passed what looked like old construction equipment, maybe parts of metal buildings or roofs perhaps. They couldn't be sure and they were too busy running to really pay much attention. The closer they got to the man, the louder the yells and snarls of his pursuers became, the fires of their torches cackling a bit.

Reid was surprised to see how much they looked like humans, but they were just a little… off. A bit more on the animalistic side, razor sharp teeth glinting in their torchlights as they snarled, bodies half hunched over, eyes blazing with some odd light. Unkempt and poorly clothed, they were at the very least a good example of what happened to human beings when they spent too much time away from society: feral, dangerous and a bit unhinged.

They almost ran right into the man as they cut the man off, Jack catching him before he could stumble and fall to the ground.

"We've got you!" he assured him, helping him straighten up and passing him back, stepping between them and the fast approaching attackers.

Reid and Martha took the man and Martha did a quick, cursory check for injuries, spotting a few bruises and cuts, but nothing life threatening. She was certain the man was human though they couldn't really say the same about the things chasing him.

Jack pulled his gun from his holster, about to shoot the things when the Doctor spotted the weapon, "Jack, don't you dare!"

A bit reluctantly, Jack aimed the gun into the pitch black sky and fired off three loud shots, stopping the creatures in their tracks, all eyes going to the sky, panic on their faces for the briefest of moments.

"Doctor, what are they?" Reid asked, eyeing them with a heavy dose of fear and curiosity. The sound had stopped them for a moment, but they were soon running at them again and closing the distance fast.

"There's more of them!" the man warned, his voice high with fear, "We've got to keep going!"

"Look, calm down, I've got a ship, I can help it's right over –" The Doctor stopped, eyes glancing back the way they'd come. Appearing just over the crest of the hill was another group of the things, all bearing weapons and torches and doing a good job of imitating the others' angry snarls.

"…Or maybe not," the Doctor sounded a bit defeated for a moment before the man spoke again, voice urgent and scared.

"We're close to the Silo," he said, "If we can get to the Silo, we're safe!"

"Silo?" The Doctor glanced back at Martha, Reid and Jack and the three of them nodded eager, none of them wanting to stand around and wait to see what these things were going to do once they caught up with them.

"Silo sounds good," Jack said, spinning in a circle with his gun ready.

"Silo for me!' Martha agreed.

"Alright, Silo it is," The Doctor said, "Which way?"

The man grabbed his arm and lead the way, taking off at a full run again, the creatures only a few hundred yards behind them and closing. It took them several long minutes of running to reach the "Silo" that the man spoke of. A high chain-link fence greeted them as they spun around a corner and several armed men were guarding the gate.

The man began yelling as soon as the fence came into view, "It's the Futurekind, they're coming! You've got to let us in! They're right behind us!"

The guards raised their rifles, "Show us your teeth!" they demanded as they came right up to the gate, "Show us your teeth!" Their fingers were tense over the triggers and the man immediately grinned wide, pulling his lips away from his teeth.

The guards look satisfied and jabbed the rifles at the others, "Show us your teeth!" they demanded as the Futurekind appeared over the hill, snarling and spitting and hissing as they closed in. Martha, Reid, Jack and the Doctor stood there, frozen in fear and confusion at the order and the man snapped at them, eyes darting back at the Futurekind.

"Show them your teeth!"

Slowly, they followed his example and pulled their lips back in an odd grin and the guards nodded, pulling the gate open. "Humans! Let them in! Quickly, get inside," they ordered, ushering them in and shutting the gates quickly, aiming the rifles at the Futurekind as they nearly slammed into the fence.

"Humans. Humani. Make feast," one of the Futurekind said, his voice rough and slightly sibilant.

One of the guards hefted his gun higher, "Alright, all of you, go back to where you came from!" he ordered, finger tight over the trigger. "Go back!"

"Kind hungry," the same Futurekind spoke again, "Kind want you…"

The guards lifted their guns readying to fire, "Go back!" one of them ordered again, "Get back!"

"Oh, don't tell them to put their guns down," Jack muttered.

The Doctor frowned, "They aren't my responsibility,"

"And I am? That's a change,"

The Doctor sighed as the guards fired several shots at the feet of the Futurekind, sending the group stumbling back with angry, yet fearful eyes. The group finally had a moment to catch their breath as the guard turned and led them away from the fence.

"Thanks for that," the Doctor breathed, glancing back at Martha, Jack and Reid. "You alright?"

"Fine," Reid nodded, "Confused, but… fine."

"Same here," Martha agreed, looking around the open yard curiously. They were approaching what looked like a large electrical warehouse. It was huge, a couple of towers around it. Looked dingy and old, but definitely still in use. She wondered what it was there for and what these people were even doing here.

The man from before broke away from the back of the group and stepped up to the guard leading them, "My name is Padra Fet Shafe Cane. Tell me, just tell me… Can you take me to Utopia?"

The guard smiled, nodding, "Oh yes sir! Yes I can!"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Inside, they were greeted by a friendly looking dark skinned man in shabby clothing, asking them for their names and writing them down on a clipboard like thing. He seemed intrigued when the Doctor told him his name and smiled at bit at Reid's introduction as "Dr. Spencer Reid," He asked what kind of doctor they were. The Doctor answered, as usual, with the cryptic and, mostly true answer of "everything" while Reid was a bit more exact, explain that he had PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering.

Jack whistled lightly as the man whispered something to someone else, who hurried off into another room explaining, "The professor will be happy to see you!"

"Beauty _and_ brains, huh, Spence?" Jack teased.

Reid's face blushed a deep shade of red while Padra and the Doctor argued with the man, the Doctor asking about retrieving the TARDIS and Padra trying to find out if his mother and brother had made it or not. Apparently, the computers were down, but they could check the books. He promised the Doctor that they would search for the TARDIS on their last water run and the group found themselves being led down a narrow hall by a tiny little blond headed boy named Creet.

The hall was dotted with tiny little family groups, people were cramped in together, stuffing all of their belongs that they could into the smallest possible spaces. Voices registered as a low hum as Creet led Padra down the hall, calling out for his missing family.

"It's like refugee camp!" Martha said, looking around.

"It's stinking," Jack said, scrunching up his nose and looking around. One man gave him and indignant look and he forced a small, "Sorry. No offense, not you."

"Ah, c'mon, Jack, can't you see? The ripe old smell of humans! You survived!" The Doctor sounded excited, grinning as they maneuvered their way through the tight space.

"So they are human," Reid said, curiously eyeing the people. "What are they here for?"

"Don't know," The Doctor said, "Surviving, I guess. Humans, you lot are brilliant, you know that? Clinging onto life, even at the very end of the universe! Indomitable, that's the world!" He grinned at Reid, taking him by the arm and shaking him a bit.

"The race that just refused to give up."

Reid couldn't help but grin at the Doctor's excitement. The littlest, most amazing things seemed to make him happy. The existence of life on this dead planet had put him in a better mood than Reid ever remembered seeing him.

And even more good news came a moment later when Padra spotted his family and rushed forward to hug his mother, relief evident in their faces as the family was reunited. Martha grinned brightly at the sight and Reid rolled his eyes as Jack eyed a man, grinning that flirtatious grin of his.

"Captain jack Harkness, and who are you?"

"Stop it!" The Doctor didn't even bother looking over his shoulder, having pulled out his sonic screwdriver and using it on a door in the side of the hall. "Give us a hand with this."

The three of them gathered around the Doctor's side, watching as he worked to unlatch the metal door. "It's half deadlocked, Jack, see if you can override the code," Jack started to move to the keypad, but Reid was already there and had already figured it out. The door's air seals hissed as they popped open.

The Doctor gave Reid a funny look and the young agent shrugged, "I spent a lot of time with you, Doctor," he said quietly. "Picked up a few things." He didn't mentioned, however, that he'd learned that not from the Doctor, but from someone else entirely. A woman he had gotten to know exceptionally well named River Song.

The Doctor considered that answer slowly before nodding, pushing the door open, and immediately almost falling to his death. Jack caught him quickly around his waist and yanked him back him as Reid and Martha leaned out for a closer look, eyes widening as they took in the sight of a massive rocket.

"Now that… is what I call a rocket," Martha said, smiling in awe as she stared.

"They're not refugees, they're passengers!" The Doctor said in a hushed whisper.

"Padra said they were going to Utopia," Reid pointed out, frowning. The rocket appeared to have been cobbled together from spare bits of metal and parts, all different sizes and colors, welded together inexpertly, but impressive and massive all the same.

"The perfect place," the Doctor smiled, "One hundred trillion years in the future and the dream's still the same. Do you recognize those engines?" He turned to Jack and Reid this time, unsure of exactly how much Reid might know already.

"Nope," Jack answered, eyeing the rocket, "Whatever it is, it's not rocket science. Sure is hot though…"

"Boiling," the Doctor agreed, pulling back in and shutting the door, a thoughtful frown on his face as he tucked the sonic screwdriver into his coat pocket.

"If the universe is falling apart, what does Utopia mea?" he wondered out loud, probably about to go off on another his hard to follow, tangent thoughts. Luckily, they were saved from the babble by a smiling older man.

"…Hello," he greeted them, looking around the group for a moment, eyes going between Jack, Reid and the Doctor for a moment before settling on Jack, "Doctor?"

"No, that would be me," the Doctor said, smiling and raising his hand, "And him," he added, nodding to Reid.

"Good! Good! Good!" The man was practically beaming now as he grabbed both Reid and the Doctor's hands, dragging them along beside him, nearly causing them both to run into people and the walls as Martha and Jack hurried to catch up, wondering what so good about them being there.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The man, who introduced himself as Professor Yana while they were in mid-run down the halls, led them into a large lab, still babbling excitedly, dragging Reid and the Doctor over to some machine and whizzing them past a tall, blue creature in a lab coat who greeted them with a high, friendly female voice.

"Chan, welcome, tho," she said, smiling. She was a beautiful, if strange looking creature. Sort of a mixture of human and… insect? She had a large head with antennae shooting up out of her forehead and her skin was a blue-ish green color, swirling with lovely patterns.

Reid tried to keep up with what the Professor was saying as he motioned to the "gravitissimal accelerator" (whatever that was) and several other machines in the lab, talking excitedly, if a bit anxiously, about each one and the things that were not-so-great about them.

Martha and Jack hung back as the Professor led them around the lab, never ceasing in his over-their-heads scientific speech. Martha smiled at the alien who had greeted them.

"Hello," she said, "Who are you?"

"Chan, Chantho, tho," she said, bobbing her head gently and smiling at them. Jack smiled that trademark smile of his and offered her his hand.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced himself.

"Stop it!" the Doctor ordered, looking up from the machine the Professor was showing them.

Jack sighed, "Can't I say hello to anyone?"

Chantho smiled, ducking her head a bit, "Chan, I do not protest, tho,"

Jack grinned at her, "Maybe later, Blue," he teased, clapping his hand together and moving over to the Doctor, Reid and the Professor, removing his pack from his back as he did. "So what do have here?"

"All this feeds into the rocket?" the Doctor asked, looking around.

"Yes, but without a stable footprint we'll never achieve escape velocity," the Professor said sadly, "If only we could harmonize the five impact patterns and unify them! Then we might yet make it."

He sighed heavily, looking around the space sadly, "So, doctors… any ideas?"

Reid looked completely out of his depth; he'd seen a lot in his life and he was more than a little intelligent, but this went beyond him, he knew. "I'm sorry," he said, "I… I've never seen anything like this." He glanced to the Doctor along with the Professor, both seeming extremely hopeful while the Doctor looked, for the first time ever, reluctant to speak.

"Well… sort of… not a clue…"

The Professor deflated, "Nothing?"

"I'm not from around these parts," the Doctor admitted, "I've never seen a system like it. Sorry,"

It was almost heartbreaking to see the look on the Professor's face as he sighed, "No, no, I'm sorry. There's been so little help, " he trailed off, shaking his head. Reid gave him a sympathetic smile while the Doctor examined the machines more closely and Jack looked over something in the corner.

Suddenly, Martha's voice cut through the sadness of the moment, "Oh… my… God…" she was bent over, pulling something out of Jack's bag and sitting it on the table. It was a large jar. With a hand inside it, liquid bubbling quietly around the hand. Reid, the Professor and Chantho moved closer to the table, wide eyed and curious.

"You've got a hand!" she exclaimed, looking up incredulously at Jack. "A hand, in a jar. A hand, in a jar, in your bag!"

Jack smirked, leaning against the wall as the Doctor knelt beside the hand, stuttering for a moment, "B-but… that's my hand!"

The former Time Agent shrugged, "I told you I had a Doctor detector,"

"Wait," Reid frowned, "What do you mean your hand?"

"You've got both your hands!" Martha said, "I can see them!"

"Lost my hand, Christmas day, in a sword fight, didn't I tell you?"

"So what? You just… grew another one?" Martha laughed, eyeing him disbelievingly.

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"You're joking," the look on Martha's face was one of absolutely astonishment as she stared at the hand in the jar and back at the Doctor's two hands, shaking her head. She was hardly listening as the Professor asked the Doctor what species he was, still staring at his hands, unable to make the connection in her mind. He grew another hand. Like a lizard. Seriously.

Reid moved to stand next to her, smiling a bit, "That's not even the scariest thing he can do," he said in a quiet voice, "I don't think there's any end to the weirdness of the Time Lords."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The Professor explained that the planet they were on was once called Malcassairo and was Chantho's home planet. She was the last surviving member of the Malmooth people. Humans had taken refuge on the planet years ago in hopes of being able to one day reach Utopia. Martha still hadn't quite gotten over the new hand, but the Doctor did his best to calm her down while the Professor explained that the Futurekind were believed to be what humans were to become in the future, though he himself believed that to be a myth.

"So, um, Utopia?" the Doctor asked, trying to get them back onto the subject at hand.

The Professor nodded and led them over to a computer screen, "The call came from beyond the stars, originating from that planet: 'Come to Utopia', it said."

The Doctor frowned, not recognizing the planet of the screen, "Where is that?"

"Oh, far beyond the Condensate Wilderness," the Professor said, "Out toward the Wildlands and the Dark Matter Reefs. Calling us in. The last of the humans, scattered into the night. The Science Foundation created the Utopia Project years ago to preserve mankind through the collapse of reality itself. Trying to find Utopia. Perhaps this is it, perhaps not. But it's work a look, don't you think?"

The Doctor nodded, babbling about the size of the planet and the distance from Malcassairo and whether or they could fly there or not. The Professor seemed to not be listening at first, eyes closed, lips pressed together tightly like he was in pain.

"Professor?"

The Professor blinked, nodding slowly, "Yes, sorry," he moved away from the computer, "Why are we all standing around? There's work to be done!"

The Doctor watched his face, "Except… this rocket's not gonna fly, is it? The footprint thing, it's not working."

"We'll find a way!" the Professor protested.

"You're stuck on this planet," the Doctor continued, "…And you haven't told them, have you?"

The Professor sighed sadly, shaking his head, "I suppose… It's better for them to live in hope," he said, looking every bit a man of his years and then some, that sadness and defeat aging him visibly.

The Doctor smiled, "Quite right too," he said, picking something up. Reid, Martha and Jack watched curiously as he approached the Professor, "Now, I'm not an expert, but all the same, a boost reversal circuit, in any time frame, must be… a circuit that reverses the boost, so what would happen if I did… this!"

He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and it whirred for a moment and suddenly the lights in the room began buzzing and whirring and Chantho looked around excitedly.

"Chan, it's working, tho!" she said.

"How did you do that?" the Professor asked incredulously, shaking his head in fascination at the Doctor. The Doctor just grinned, shrugging it off.

"Oh, while we've been chatting away I forgot to mention… I'm brilliant!"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The passengers were all being led into the rocket, getting ready for takeoff; Martha helped them all get ready while Reid, Jack and the Doctor stayed in the lab to help the Professor. The Doctor was absolutely in awe of the Professor's work. He'd built his entire system out of "strings and staples!" and food extracts.

The man was a genius and Reid and Jack couldn't help smiling as they listened to the Doctor shower the man with compliments. It was so rare that the Doctor met anyone on level with his intellect. Even Reid, who was a genius, wasn't really a match for the Doctor's brilliance.

They were all busily plugging things in, checking wires and computer readouts, making sure everything was running the way it was supposed to for the rocket to take off properly.

"But," the Doctor paused, glancing up at the Professor, "That footprint engine of yours, it can't be activated from onboard… You're staying here."

The Professor nodded, "Mhm, with Chantho. She refuses to leave without me," he smiled fondly.

"You'd give your life so they can fly?"

The Professor shrugged, "Oh, I think I'm a little too old for Utopia," he said, "Time I had some sleep."

_"Professor! Tell the Doctor we've found his blue box!"_ A static-filled voice came through the speakers and Jack spun the monitor around to reveal the TARDIS in the back of the water truck, returning from its last water run.

The Doctor grinned, clapping a hand on the Professor's shoulder, "Professor, I think I might just have found your way out."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

All the passengers had been loaded into the rocket except for a few of the guards and other workers seeing to the final preparations. They'd just managed to cart the TARDIS into the Professor's lab when Martha returned, looking relieved to see the TARDIS there. The Doctor was fiddling with something, pulling a long cord from inside the TARDIS and directing Reid to help him pull it back out to the console of the footprint engine, explaining that he was going to give them an extra boost of power with the TARDIS engines.

The Professor didn't look like he was really listening to anyone at the moment. For an older man, he was generally full of energy and excitement, but Reid had noticed the rare few moments where he looked twice his age; worn down and tired. He was sitting in a small chair; face pinched a bit tight, looking like he was in pain.

"Chan, Professor, are you alright, tho?" Chantho asked anxiously, kneeling beside him.

"I'm fine," he said, sounding tired. When Chantho didn't leave his side, still looking concerned he huffed a heavy sigh and waved her away, "I'm fine! I'm fine." He looked a little guilty as Chantho nodded and moved away quickly, head down, eyes on the ground.

Reid frowned and nudged the Doctor gently, nodding toward the Professor, "Doctor, are you sure he's alright?"

"Hm?" the Doctor looked up and spotted the Professor, frowning a bit as he plugged in the cord and made his way over to him, kneeling at his side.

"Professor, are you alright?"

The Professor looked up at the Doctor and sighed, "I'm fine, Doctor. It's just this… noise. This constant noise inside my head, like it's getting closer and closer."

"How long has that been happening?"

"All my life, I suppose," the Professor said sadly, shrugging.

The Doctor looked thoughtful, "What's is sound like?" he asked curiously.

The Professor looked thoughtful for a moment, frowning, "…It's the sound of drums," he finally said, nodding.

"But, no rest for the wicked." He smiled a bit as he forced himself back to his feet and went back to work. The Doctor watched him for a second, smiling a little fondly before going back to what he was doing.

"Can't you help him?" Reid asked quietly, bending over the machine and glancing at the Doctor, "You helped me."

The Doctor sighed, "That was different, Spencer. I doubt there's much I could do for the Professor if he's had this for his entire life," he glanced back at the older man, "I can ask him if though, when we're done here. Let's get these people to Utopia first, hm?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

They were nearly ready to send the rocket flying, they just to set the couplings in the radiation chamber and the Professor could activate the footprint. They watched on a grainy monitor while a man donned a radiation suit and entered the chamber.

"Stet radiation?" the Doctor asked, glancing to the Professor, "Don't think I've ever heard of that."

"Oh, you wouldn't want to. Nasty stuff. We can hold it back from here though; it's perfectly safe right now."

The Doctor nodded, watching curiously as the man twisted one of the couplings into place and moved on to the second. Just as he popped it into place, the power flickered and suddenly died, emergency lights going on, giving the place strange reddish hue.

The Professor was panicking, looking around in fear while they waited to see what had caused the power outage.

A few moments later, they heard the sounds of gunfire and were informed that a Futurekind had somehow made its way into the compound and destroyed the fuses and they had no way of holding back the radiation, even once the system's power was back. The young man in the radiation chamber had died before being able to escape – he was entirely evaporated, the only evidence he was ever there at all the pile of clothes he left behind.

Dejectedly, the Professor shook his head, "We'll never get to Utopia now," he said, "Without those couplings the rocket will never fly!"

Jack frowned, "We've just got to force the system reboot," he said, grabbing two ends of frayed sparking cords and jamming them together.

"Jack don't!" Martha tried to stop him, but it was too late and his entire body jerked with the electricity before he fell limply to the floor. Chantho pushed the cords away and Martha was already kneeling at his side.

"Just step back," the Doctor said gently, grabbing her around the shoulders and tugging her away, staring down at Jack thoughtfully.

"But he's just killed himself!" Martha said, eyeing him anxiously. "We can't just –"

"It's alright," Reid assured her, "Really."

"Professor," The Doctor was still staring down at Jack's prone body, "It seems to me you've got a room which no one can enter without dying…" he paused, glancing over at Jack again, who suddenly jerked up, gasping for breath like he had earlier.

"I think I've got just the man for the job,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Martha was in shock when the Doctor and Jack headed for the radiation chamber, sending everyone to the rocket apart from Martha, Chantho, Reid and the Professor. They set up a shaky communication feed with the rocket's pilot and were monitoring the Doctor and Jack's progress by the radiation chamber.

The Professor had seemed extremely interested in Jack when Reid explained to all of them that Jack was the man who could never die because of something that had happened to him while he was with the Doctor. Jack had never told him _what _the reason for his immortality was, but Reid had seen him die and come back more than once before.

"So he was really dead out there, before?" Martha frowned, "I thought… Well, that is strange."

The Professor nodded, "This Doctor, does he often travel with such strange people?" he asked.

Martha smiled, glancing back at the monitor. The picture was terrible, but she could hear Jack and the Doctor's conversation. They were talking about the reason – the real reason – the Doctor ran away from Jack and apparently it was because of the immortality. It wasn't natural, even the TARDIS had tried to shake him off, running to the end of the universe to get away from him. A fixed point in time and space that shouldn't exist.

She did her best to ignore the admiration in the Doctor's voice when he talked about Rose. The wonderful, fantastic, brilliant Rose. She didn't think he'd ever talk to her like that and it sent a pang of jealousy and hurt right to her chest.

"I suppose," she said, "He travels through space and time and picks us up wherever he goes." She frowned, "God, I make us sound like stray dogs, suppose we are, in a way…"

Reid glanced back at the Professor, who wasn't even looking at the monitor anymore, staring at the TARDIS with an odd look on his face while Martha explained that it was time machine. Reid stepped a little closer to the old man, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked quietly.

"Time travel! They say there was a time travel… in the old days," the Professor said quietly, shaking his head. "I never believed…" he sighed, shrugging helplessly. Martha and Chantho were watching him now. He looked like he was about to cry, or maybe had just finished crying.

"But what do I know? Stupid old man,"

"Oh, Professor!" Martha shook her head, about to protest when he fiddled around and pulled a pocket watch from his side, running his fingers over it.

"I never could keep time. Always late. Always lost. Even this ting never worked…"

Martha's eyes had become as round as plates and Reid frowned at her as she stared at the watch, "May I…?" she took it gently, turning it over in her hands carefully.

"How long have you had it?"

"I was found with it," the Professor explained, eyes going a bit distant. "Yes, I was a naked child found on the cost of the Silver Devastation. Abandoned."

"Have you ever opened it?"

"It's broken," the Professor said.

Martha nodded, "H-How do you know it's broken if you've never opened it?" she asked, glancing at him.

"It's jammed," he said, "See, here," he pointed to the latch and tugged a bit uselessly at it, shaking his head. "It's not meant to be. Why?" he frowned and Martha pressed the watch back into his hands, shaking her head.

"No, it's nothing," she said quickly, grabbing Reid's hand, "Look, everything's fine here. Why don't Reid and I go see if we can help the Doctor?"

She didn't wait for an answer; she just dragged Reid along beside her, practically running out of the lab, leaving the Professor staring down at the watch, confused.

"Martha!" Reid was stumbling to keep up, surprised at how fast she was running. "What's going on? What's so important about that watch?"

Martha almost laughed, "Wow, for once I know something you don't… I'll explain in a minute. We need to find the Doctor… Where's that radiation chamber?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Doctor!" Martha practically screeched to a halt when they found the Doctor and Jack, plugging cables and flipping switches outside of the radiation chamber. "Doctor!"

The Doctor wasn't listening at first, still twisting wheels and getting the rocket ready for launch, that excited gleam in his eyes as he worked.

"Doctor!" Martha cut him off again, shaking her head, "The Professor, he's got a watch, a fob watch, just like yours! Same writing, same… everything."

The Doctor paused suddenly and Reid and Jack frowned, watching the exchange. "Where did he get it?"

"I asked him; he said it's been with him his whole life,"

"What's so important about the watch?" Reid asked, sighing heavily. Martha hadn't been one for talking while they raced down the corridors to find the Doctor, but whatever it was it must've been important because she had an almost desperate look in her eyes as she talked.

Martha shook her head, "No, it's not a watch though, it's this… chameleon thing…" she frowned, making odd gestures with her hands, trying to explain what it was she was talking about. It wasn't easy to explain those odd three months in 1913 with the Doctor.

"No, no," the Doctor shook his head, "It's this… this device, it holds a Time Lord consciousness, rewrites biology, changes a Time Lord into a human."

Reid frowned, "You mean… The Professor could be a Time Lord?"

"This is good!" Jack said, "Doctor you might not be the only one!"

"It is good isn't it?" Martha asked as the Doctor went back to the buttons and levers on the wall. He nodded anxiously, looking unsure.

"Good, yes, good… I dunno. Depends which one,"

Reid felt his stomach bottom out at those words. Which one… He'd almost forgotten. The Doctor was the _last _of the Time Lords. He was the only one left. Except for that other one. The one he'd met before. He felt sick.

"But they died! The Time Lords," the Doctor's voice was a bit harsh, his hands shaking a little while he worked furiously, "All them. They died!"

"Not if he was human," Jack said, glancing over at the Doctor, wondering what the big deal was. He'd have thought the Doctor would have been happy to know he wasn't alone in the universe. If there were more Time Lords, that meant he had someone he could talk to about the Time War that had taken his people and his planet. Reid was the only one who knew that the Doctor was the reason for Gallifrey's destruction.

"What did he say, Martha? What did he say!" he sounded desperate, grabbing onto Martha's shoulders and shaking her roughly.

"He… he looked at the watch like he could hardly see it. Like that… perception filter thing,"

The Doctor held her tight, "What about now? Can he see it now?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Back in the lab, Chantho was helping the Professor activate the footprint. She was actually doing most of the work; the Professor had been staring down at his watch, running his fingers over it thoughtfully ever since Martha and Reid had left. Things were all clear for the rocket and a moment later, she heard the sounds of its engines as it shot into space.

"Chan, Professor, are you alright, tho?" she asked quietly.

The Professor wasn't listening. He turned the watch over in his hands and fiddled with the latch for a moment, watching as it – for the first time ever – popped open. A golden light swooped out of the watch and his eyes widened, hands clutching the small device as if his very life depended on it.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

As soon as the rocket took off they were running down the halls again, trying desperately to make it the lab. They were immediately stopped by a closing door and the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, trying to unlock it while Reid and Jack worked on undoing the deadlock with the numeric pad to the side.

A moment later, they heard the furious, snarling noises of the Futurekind and Martha's heart was pounding hard in her chest. "Doctor!" she yelled as they got the door open. Faintly, they thought they heard a scream that sounded like Chantho, but as they reached the lab they were stopped by yet another closing door.

"Professor!" the Doctor screamed, banging on the door while Reid and Jack once again worked on the keypad together, glancing back anxiously, the sounds of the Futurekind getting closer and closer.

"Professor, let me in! Chantho! Are you there! Please, let me explain! Don't open that watch! It's important! Please, let us in!"

The Doctor was sounding desperate now, his entire body shaking as he banging on the door, shouting at it. Martha wasn't sure what was wrong, but she knew if they didn't get that door open soon they'd be food for the Futurekind and she certainly didn't want that.

"Hurry up!" she said anxiously.

The Doctor stopped shouting when they heard a faint shot and someone screamed inside. Jack decided enough was enough and pulled out his gun, shooting the lock. The door slid open and the Doctor rushed in, stopping in his tracks when he spotted the Professor standing outside the TARDIS, his eyes going wide with panic for a second too long. The Professor was holding his side, wounded, but managed to get into the TARDIS before the Doctor could stop him, shutting the door.

The Doctor tried to unlock, but it was deadlocked only seconds later and he pounded furiously on the door, "Let me in! Please! Let me in!"

Reid knelt next to Chantho on the floor, glancing at Martha who shook her head sadly, "She's dead," she whispered.

The Doctor was shaking, "Please! Listen to me, I'm begging you. Everything's changed! We're the only two left! Please let me in!"

Jack was trying to get the door to close, but the lock was broken and Jack called Reid and Martha over to help him force it closed, the sounds of the Futurekind getting louder. They must've been right around the corner. The Doctor seemed oblivious to their struggle, still staring at the TARDIS, breathing hard as the man inside screamed, bright light flashing through the glass. He was regenerating.

"Doctor!" Jack yelled as the Futurekind made it to the door, trying to shove it aside. They held them back with all their strength, but it wouldn't be enough. "Think of something!"

_"Now then, Doctor!" _the voice came through over the speakers in the TARDIS and Reid and Martha frowned. Reid _knew _that voice. _"Oh, new voice. Hello… Hello. Helloooo. Anyway, why don't we stop and have a nice little chat while I tell you all my plans and you work out a way to stop me? I don't think!"_

"Hang on, I know that voice!" Martha gasped, frowning, racking her brain for where she had heard it.

The Doctor looked terrified, "I'm asking you, really, properly, just stop! Just think!"

There was a pause from the other end and Reid could just see that insane, sick grin flashing on the man's face. _"Use my name."_

The Doctor hesitated for a moment, "Master… I'm sorry,"

_"Tough!"_

The TARDIS engines were whirring and the Futurekind were tugging the door back inch by inch.

"Doctor!" Reid screamed, heart pounding in his chest, "Doctor, we need help!"

_"End of the universe!" _the Master taunted, _"Have fun! Bye-bye!"_

The Doctor ignored them, holding up his sonic screwdriver, a pained look on his face as the small device buzzed for a moment and then the TARDIS, with the Master, was gone, leaving them all trapped on the planet with a pack of hungry Futurekind about to break down the door.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **And thus concludes Part I: _Utopia._ This chapter was much longer than usual, but I had to squeeze it all in because it just felt right to do it. Next up, Part II: _The Sound of Drums_.

Hope you enjoyed and please review!


	3. Part II: The Sound of Drums: Chapter One

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **So sorry this is majorly late guys. Life has really gotten in my way this past week. But I stayed up extra late and worked extra hard to get this chapter ready and posted for you guys because tomorrow I'm gonna be in Georgia for a few days and didn't want you to wait any longer.

Enormous thanks to reviews/readers! You guys are loved and appreciated! It means a lot to me! And now, without further ado, PART II: THE SOUND OF DRUMS: CHAPTER ONE!

Please review!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part II: **_**The Sound of Drums**_

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

"Doctor!" It was Jack who finally got the Doctor's attention and the Time Lord turned to see his three companions trying to hold the door closed while a pack of snarling Futurekind tried to rip it back. He rushed to their side and shoved his weight against the door, brain spinning with ideas for a moment before his eyes fell on the leather band around Jack's wrist. He yanked out his sonic screw driver.

"Jack, give me your wrist!"

"What?"

"Your wrist!" The Doctor insisted, yanking his hand away and fumbling with the screwdriver for a moment.

"It's broken," Jack half yelled over the snarling things behind him.

"Just give me a second," The Doctor snapped.

"We don't have a second!" Reid said, hazel eyes locked on the Futurekind. He was still shaken by that voice, his mind spinning as he thought of all the horrible implications. Some things were starting to make a bit more sense to him now. Things the Master had said to him, things that Martha had said. But in any case, it didn't matter if they died here. He wasn't stupid; he knew that they could die here no matter what had happened. _Time can be rewritten. _He knew that much.

The Doctor was pointing the sonic at the Vortex Manipulator and he could only just hear the faint buzzing of the device before there was a small spark and he began punching the buttons expertly.

"Hold on!" the Doctor yelled, "Grab his wrist!"

Martha looked confused, but followed his orders immediately. Reid took a breath, closed his eyes and gripped it tight, waiting for the hard tugging feeling to hit him as they were yanked away, just in time and came to a crashing halt.

Everything hurt, especially his head. He felt like he'd just been put through a blender and needed a moment to shake off the odd feeling of motion sickness. He decided he absolutely hated Vortex Manipulators, no matter what Jack said about them.

"Oh, my head," Martha winced while Jack and the Doctor twisted and got the kinks out of their muscles.

"Time travel without a capsule, that's a killer," the Doctor grunted, cracking his neck and shaking his head for a moment. Without another word he set off, out of the alley, a deadly sort of determination in his eyes.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

They eventually settled down on a bench in the middle of the city, looking around. London, 2007. That's what the Doctor had told them anyway and Martha was certain he was right.

"But this Master bloke, he's got the TARDIS," she said, looking a bit depressed, "He could be anywhere in time and space,"

Reid shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should mention that he knew who the Master was or not. He wasn't entirely sure if that counted as "Spoilers". After all, the Doctor already knew Martha, Mickey and Jack would be there. He sighed, shaking his head.

"No he's here," the Doctor said. "Trust me."

"Who is he anyway?" Martha asked, "I mean, that voice at the end… That voice wasn't the Professor's,"

"If the Master's a Time Lord then he must've regenerated," Jack said, frowning thoughtfully.

"What's that mean?" Martha asked, frowning.

Jack gave the Doctor an annoyed look, wondering why he had never told Martha about regeneration before. But it was Reid who answered, "When a Time Lord dies, they can change their bodies. Become an entire new person," he smiled faintly, glancing at the Doctor, "You said it was like cheating death."

The Doctor nodded slowly, still a bit surprised at how much Spencer knew. He must've learned a lot about Time Lords during that one trip. But right now, he had far more important things to worry about than what Reid knew about him and didn't know about him.

"If he's completely changed himself… then how are we going to find him?" Martha asked. At this point, the Doctor didn't seem even a little interested in their conversation, staring off into space, eyes distant and thoughtful.

Finally, the Doctor snapped out of his reverie and Reid sighed in relief that he wouldn't have to provide an answer for that. He was certain that his knowledge of the Master was one thing the Doctor didn't need to know about yet.

"I'll know him," he said, "As soon as I see him I'll know him. Time Lords always do."

Martha frowned thoughtfully, thinking about what the Doctor had said. He was here. He was a completely new man. He could be anyone. Her eyes fell on a political campaign poster and her mouth fell open a bit as she stood slowly and turned toward a television, eyes wide in shock.

"Hold on… If he could be anyone. No, no way…" she paused, glancing at the Doctor, "We missed the election! Oh God! I knew I knew that voice! When he spoke through the TARDIS, I knew I'd heard him before!"

Reid was a bit confused. How did _Martha _know the Master?

Then he followed her eyes and realized what she meant. Harold Saxon. Prime Minister. 2007. _Oh_… Now he understood. He had seen the news coverage for weeks: The President of the United States was assassinated by Prime Minister Harold Saxon. Harold Saxon disappeared after that, most people thought he'd gone insane. He felt his stomach twist. He did not want to be anywhere near the presidential assassination.

He wondered if he should tell the Doctor about it. Would that count as "Spoilers"? Would the Doctor knowing that cause a paradox? Probably. He bit his lip. This was beginning to get far too complicated.

The Doctor seemed to be in shock as he stared up at the televised announcement, "That's him," his voice sounded weak, "He's Prime Minister. The Master is Prime Minister of Great Britain!"

Reid felt sick watching the news coverage, hearing the man's voice again. Seeing that mocking smile on his face. It sent shivers down his spine. He did not want to think about what a man like the Master could do while in charge of a whole country. Then he realized, he already knew: He killed the president.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

They ended up in Martha's flat, looking for a computer or a television. Anything for the Doctor to use. Jack was on the phone, frowning as he continued to get no answer.

"Jack who are you phoning?" The Doctor demanded, "We don't need anyone to know we're here!"

"Just some friend of mine," Jack said, "But there's no reply…" he shook his head staring down at the phone while Martha found her laptop and quickly passed it to the Doctor. Jack abandoned his cellphone and moved to the computer.

"Here, I'll show you the Saxon website," he said, "He's been around a while."

And indeed he had. He had records of schools and awards, his rise in politics. Everything was all there, perfectly in order for anyone who wanted to glance at it. Martha was shaking her head in amazement.

"That is so weird though!" she said, "It's the day after the election, I mean, that's only four days after I met you!"

"We've been flying all around time and space and he was here the whole time," The Doctor ran his hand through his hair, putting his glasses on and leaning over Jack's shoulder to read the website that he'd pulled up.

Martha finally stopped pacing and put her hands on her hips, frowning, "So, are you going to tell us who he is?" she asked.

"He's a Time Lord," the Doctor answered, keeping his gaze on the computer even when Jack turned to glance at his face. He wished they'd both stop giving him those looks. Reid was the only one who didn't seem to be giving him weird, questioning looks. He found that very comforting. He really didn't want to talk about his past, particularly any part of his past that had anything to do with the Master.

Martha frowned, "What about the rest of it!" she demanded, "I mean, who'd call themselves 'The Master'?"

The Doctor frowned and leaned closer over Jack's shoulder, shaking his head, "That's all you need to know,"

Reid edged his way to Martha's side, "Don't," he whispered, glancing over that the Doctor, "He doesn't want to talk about him…" he bit his lip, "Neither do I."

She glanced quickly at the Doctor then back to Reid, "You know him?"

He nodded stiffly, "Don't tell him," his eyes were still fixed on the Doctor, but he could see Martha nodded out of the corner of his eye and he could feel her gaze on him for a long, tense moment. She wanted answers and Reid couldn't blame her, but he certainly wasn't going to be the one to give them to her and if the Doctor didn't want to talk about the Master then that settled it. No one was getting answers until he decided to talk.

She sighed heavily and moved over to her phone, looking at the blinking message light and pressing play. Her sister, Tish's, voice began playing excitedly, talking about some new job she'd just gotten. Martha rolled her eyes and stopped the message, annoyed.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

They spent a good half hour looking over Harold Saxon's life story, watching videos and poll campaign speeches, commercials. Anything they could find and there was a lot of it.

"He goes back years," Martha said, "Everyone knows his story! He's famous! I bet they even heard of him in the States, haven't they Spencer?" she glanced over at Reid for a moment, not realizing at first what she said, but grateful that Reid didn't look too shocked at the question, although he did look a bit tense.

"It was five years ago for me, but yes, I do remember Harold Saxon being elected. He was pretty big in the news in the US even before… the election." He nearly said the assassination and quietly reprimanded himself. That was the fourth time he'd nearly slipped and said something he shouldn't have. He was beginning to get annoyed with himself. Just thinking about the Master had him a bit flustered though. He took a breath and closed his eyes.

He knew that the Doctor had to do something to stop the Master from winning, so he ignored that little bit of worry and focused on helping them come up with some sort of plan.

She nodded, "He's got a whole life," she said, "Cambridge University, he played Rugby. Everything's here."

"That's impossible," the Doctor said, frowning thoughtfully.

"But he's got the TARDIS," Jack said, "Maybe he went back in time and has been living here for decades."

"No," the Doctor shook his head.

"Why not? Worked for me!"

"When he was stealing the TARDIS the only thing I could was lock the coordinates, permanently. He could only travel between the year one hundred trillion and the last place the TARDIS landed."

"Which is was Cardiff, in 2007," Reid said, understanding. "But how exact is it? I mean, is there any leeway?"

"Oh," the Doctor thought about it for a moment, "Eighteen months, not longer than that. He can't have been here for decades at any rate, it's impossible."

"So how did he manage this?" Reid frowned, "He's created an entirely false identity and the entire world believes it!"

"The Master was always sort of… hypnotic, but not to this scale," The Doctor frowned, "This is… massive."

"I was gonna vote for him," Martha said, tilting her head thoughtfully.

"Really?" The Doctor frowned.

"Well, it was before I met you," Martha nodded, "And I liked him."

"Me too," Jack agreed. Reid raised a brow, frowning as the two of them sort of looked off into the distance, not really paying Reid or the Doctor any attention at the moment.

"Why do you say that?" The Doctor asked, "What his policy? What did he stand for?"

"I dunno," Martha frowned, trying to remember, her fingers slowly beginning to tap against her hand. "He just sounded… good. Like you could trust him. Just nice. He talked about… Oh, I can't really remember. But it was good." She frowned, her fingers beginning to tap a bit faster as her eyes got more distant.

"Just the sound of his voice,"

"What's that?" the Doctor frowned, watching her fingers, "That with your fingers… what are you doing?"

Martha blinked, shocked out of her odd, distant state. "I dunno," she frowned, glancing down at her hands, "It's just… I dunno!" She frowned, looking at bit annoyed. The Doctor started to say something else when the television began playing some odd string of music and the Doctor turned, frowning.

"Our Lord and Master is speaking to his Kingdom,"

He started off talking about the Racnoss and the Slitheen and Sycorax "attacks", making sure to point out that time and time again they had been visited by extraterrestrials and the government had told them nothing, keeping it hidden. Then he smiled and assured them that _he _would never try to cover that up from his people.

"I have been contacted," he said, grinning. The screen cut to an image of a small black ball, floating in the air. A high, somewhat metallic voice began speaking then and the Doctor frowned. Reid was tense, remembering those things. The Toclafane. That was how Saxon had killed the President.

_"People of the Earth," _it stated, _"We bring great gifts. We bring technology and wisdom and protection. And all we ask in return is your friendship."_

The screen cut back to a grinning image of Saxon, "Oh, sweet," he said, eyes glancing to something behind the camera for just a moment. "And this species has identified itself. They're called the Toclafane."

"What!" The Doctor, who was leaning right up to the TV screen, frowned in disbelief.

"And tomorrow morning," Saxon continued, "They will appear, not in secret, but to all of you. Diplomatic relations with a new species will begin. Tomorrow, we take our place in the universe! Every man, woman and child. Every teacher and farmer. Every cab driver and, oh I don't know, every medical student…" A sinister smile slipped across his lips and the Doctor's eyes got wide as he spun around to face a bewildered Martha.

Suddenly, they heard a faint beeping noise and the Jack grabbed the television, spinning it around to reveal a bomb taped to the back of the device.

"OUT!" The Doctor yelled, grabbing Reid and Martha and shoving them both out of the flat. They just made it outside, hearts pounding, when the windows blew out, scattering glass everywhere and sending a huge ball of fire bursting toward the sky.

Reid watched in shock as the fire bloomed outward, shaking his head. His heart was trying to jump out of his chest and he could barely breathe. He nearly stumbled and Jack caught him, carrying him forward a few more feet while Martha ripped out her phone, desperation in her eyes.

"Alright?" the Doctor called, staring back at the explosion.

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine," Jack said, nodding toward Reid and himself.

"Martha!" The Doctor spun around when she didn't answer at first and frowned when he saw her phone in her hands. "What are you doing?"

"He knows about me, that means he knows about my family. I've got to warn them!"

"Don't tell them anything!" The Doctor warned her.

She glared at him, truly angry and shaken from the bomb in ways that she didn't even want to explain. She had almost died and her family was in danger and all the Doctor had to say was that she shouldn't tell them anything when their lives were almost definitely in danger?

"I'll do what I like!" she snapped, walking a few feet away to make her call, the anger and fear rolling off of her in waves.

Reid watched her talking anxiously to her mother for a moment before he spotted a look of absolute terror flash on her face and he slowly approached her while she took a deep breath.

"Dad… just say yes or no, alright? Is anyone else there with you?" she met Reid's eyes and he gripped her hand when she unconsciously held it out to him. It was shaking with fear for her family as there was a tense pause, then Reid could hear shouting through the phone and Martha started shouting back.

"Dad! Dad, no, are you there? What's happening?"

"Martha," the Doctor started to say something but she brushed by and toward her car.

"They're there! They've got them! I've got to help them!"

"Martha, don't!" The Doctor chased after her, "It's a trap, it's what he wants!"

Martha glared at him, yanking out the car door, "I don't care!"

It took a second, but Jack and Reid were in the car behind her and the Doctor finally sighed and climbed in as well, not looking happy about it, but realizing that there was absolutely no way Martha would abandon her family when they needed her.

* * *

**~DW/CM~**

* * *

**A/N: **Hmm. So, I think that was a nice way to start "The Sound of Drums". As I said, I aiming for about 3 chapters for this and then the _real_ fun will start. Hope you enjoyed! Please review and let me know what you think!


	4. Part II: The Sound of Drums: Chapter Two

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait guys! Gah, life is really getting hectic for me lately. I hate not updating as quickly as I usually do, but don't worry. I won't ever leave a story unfinished!

Now, real quick, I want to make a small adjustment to the list of characters that will be appearing in this story. The characters I mentioned before will still be included, obviously, but there's also high probability of cameos and large appearances from characters from **Supernatural** (Sam, Dean, possibly John and if I can get to season 3 soon enough, maybe Castiel and a few others).

Now, I know that this is still in "The Sound of Drums" but the appearances from other characters start in this chapter, intermixed with scenes from the episode. The real fun begins in "The Year of Hell" of course, but I can't hold off much longer so you'll get to see some of their POVs this chapter, I think.

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part II: **_**The Sound of Drums**_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Martha drove like a maniac, not paying attention to other cars or people. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she tried to call Tish and was almost immediately greeted by the sounds of her sister being dragged away. She threw the phone in the back seat angrily and slammed on the breaks, slinging Reid and Jack forward.

"Mum!" she screamed when she saw police vans outside of her mother's house and men dragging her mother away.

"Martha! Just go, get out of here now!" her mother yelled as they shoved her into the back of the van. Martha swallowed roughly, tears in her eyes and slammed into reverse, driving as fast as she could away from the house. She was muttering bitterly at the Doctor, angry and frustrated and scared.

"Only place he can go is Earth!" she muttered, "Great!"

Jack leaned forward, "Martha, just listen to me, alright?" he said, "We've got to ditch the car, just pull over. Hurry!"

It took her a few minutes to get off the road and she fumbled around for her phone in the back, calling her brother Leo for the fourth time and sighing in relief as he answered. Jack and the Doctor were walking a few feet ahead and Reid hung back with Martha, watching her anxiously. She was flushed and shaken, but a bit calmer now, hoping that they'd come up with a plan.

"Leo! Thank God! Just listen to me, alright, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you've got to get out and get somewhere safe. Now," she insisted, ignoring his laughed disbelief. "It's not safe, Leo, I'm serious. Just get somewhere and hide, go 'round to Boxer's or something, just don't go home, alright?"

For a moment, there was a pause and she frowned, expecting to hear her brother protesting again and instead she was greeted with a familiar, sickeningly happy voice.

_"Ooh, a game of hide and seek! I do love games. But I'll fine you, Martha Jones. Been a long time since we saw each other. Must've been, what? A hundred trillion years?"_

Martha swallowed and stopped walking, gripping Reid's hand tightly. "Let my family go, Saxon! Do you hear me? LET THEM GO!" She was shouting and shaking by the time she'd finished, all her fears seeming to seep out of her at once.

Jack and the Doctor froze at her words and turned around to face her, the Doctor's eyes somewhat manic and desperate as he snatched the mobile phone out her hands. Martha let him take it without question, watching him nervously as he walked a few yards away and held the phone to his ear.

"I'm here," he said, his voice stiff. He hardly noticed Reid break away from Martha and Jack and slip up beside him, hazel eyes fixed on the Doctor anxiously.

_"Doctor,"_

"Master,"

The Doctor could almost see the taunting smile when the Master replied, _"I like it when you use my name,"_

"You chose it," he reminded him, glancing at Reid for a second but not telling him to move away. For some reason, he didn't mind Reid being there, listening to the conversation. "Psychiatrists' field day."

The Master let out a sarcastic huff, _"As you chose yours. The man who makes people better. How sanctimonious is that?"_

"So, Prime Minister then?" the Doctor asked. Reid gave him an odd looked, surprised at how casual the conversation seemed to be. He remembered how the Doctor had reacted to the Master before and frowned, realizing he never really did seem angry at the Master. At least, not angry enough given all that he'd done. He didn't know much about their history, but he did know that they'd been friends before… whatever happened between them.

_"I know! It's good, isn't it?"_

The Doctor's face changed, just slightly, and Reid noted, finally, a bit of anger in his expression, though it was carefully concealed for now. "What are those creatures? Really? Because the Toclafane aren't real, that's just a made up name for a boogey man."

"They aren't real?" Reid whispered, giving the Doctor a confused look. If they weren't really Toclafane and the Doctor didn't know what they were… what could they possibly be? The Doctor shook his head slightly but didn't say anything, listening to the Master talk.

_"Do you remember those fairy tales about the Toclafane when we were kids? Back home? …Where is it, Doctor?"_

"Gone,"

_"How can Gallifrey be gone?"_

The Doctor took a few steps away from Reid and he sighed, taking the hint and moving back to Martha and Jack, glancing toward the Doctor for a moment. He couldn't hear much of the Master's side of the conversation, he wasn't exactly talking loudly, but he'd definitely heard the word "Gallifrey" and knew what they were talking about now. If the Master had been human all this time, he might not have even known their home was destroyed.

"What's he saying?" Martha demanded the second he was back.

Reid sighed, "Nothing I really understood," he said, "They're just talking. About the past."

Jack eyed the Doctor with a frown, "Must've been some past," he said.

Reid nodded, "It sounded personal," he said quietly. Then he took a breath and looked to Jack, speaking carefully. "You do work for Torchwood, don't you?"

Jack smiled faintly, not seeming bothered or surprised that Reid knew that about him. "Yeah. I've been trying to contact them, but no one's answering. Not even Ianto…"

"What's Torchwood?" Martha asked, frowning.

"It's… this organization," Jack explained, "We catch aliens. You remember those ghosts and metal men, right? That all happened because of Torchwood One, in London. Torchwood was almost entirely destroyed that day. I took over Torchwood Three, in Cardiff. Helped rebuild it. It's small, just me, Gwen, Ianto, Owen and Tosh. But we could use them right now."

Reid tried not to flinch over the names of Jack's team, knowing from what the "future" Jack had told him what was coming for them in their future.

Martha sighed, looking back over at the Doctor. "There's got to be something we can do," she said, "Somehow…"

Jack smirked, "Don't worry," he said, "We're with the Doctor. He'll think of something. He always does."

They all looked back over at the Doctor, who had walked over to a shop and was looking at the televisions in the window. He glanced over at the three of them and nodded shortly before turning his attention back to the televisions.

"Come on," Jack pushed himself off the wall and they made their way over the of the Doctor, keeping a couple of feet between them and letting him finish whatever his conversation was.

He slowly turned, frowning, and looked up, eyes widening when he spotted a camera, "He can see us!" he said, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and zapping the camera. Sparks flew out of the device and the Doctor looked around angrily, snapping the phone shut.

"He's got control of everything," he said slowly.

Reid was staring at the television, frowning when he saw four photographs. One of the Doctor, one of Jack, one of Martha and one of him. None of them were particularly good pictures, but above them in large yellow letters was the word "WANTED".

"What are we supposed to do?" he asked, looking to the Doctor.

"We don't have anywhere to go," Jack said defeatedly.

"Doctor," Martha demanded, "What do we do?"

The Doctor looked between the three of them and took a deep breath. "We run,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"It is fucking _freezing!_" Owen grumbled angrily, looking around the desolate wasteland and hugging his coat tighter. Tosh and Gwen were right behind him, Ianto bringing up the rear. They were in the middle of a snowy, empty void of nothingness for miles and miles.

"Stop complaining, Owen," Gwen snapped at him, "We're all cold, just deal with. We're here to do a job."

"What job?" Owen demanded, waving his arms around to indicate the absolute emptiness that surrounded them. "There's nothing out here! How can there possibly be any alien threat here?"

Gwen sighed, "You know what Tosh found," she said, "There was evidence of highly dangerous alien tech in this area. We couldn't just ignore it!"

Owen swore again under his breath, "Thought you said there was supposed to be a shelter or something out here, Ianto!" he snapped bitterly, "Don't see anything!"

"We've still got another mile," Ianto said, tapping gloved fingers against the small GPS in his hands. "It's right up there."

"Christ," Owen clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, "Another mile of this?"

"It's just one more mile," Tosh said, trying to be optimistic. "We've already hiked three; we'll be there in no time."

"Oh, right, _only _another mile," Owen muttered. "You know, this is not how I planned to spend my weekend, Gwen. I don't see why we all had to come on this stupid retrieval anyway."

Gwen gave him an angry look and shook her head, "We don't know what this tech can do," she said, "We need all the help we can get."

Owen mumbled something under his breath and she narrowed her eyes at him, hitting him in the shoulder. "What was that?" she demanded.

Owen looked back at her, "I said what we need is Jack!"

"Well Jack's not here!" Gwen forced through her teeth, "And until we find him, this is how things are going to be. Alright?"

"Yeah, whatever," Owen rolled his eyes and trudged forward, still muttering under his breath and hugging himself against the cold. Tosh sighed and looked to Gwen.

"Don't let him get to you," she said, "He's just upset about Jack. We'll find him." Gwen smiled at her and nodded, not bothering to say that she wasn't really so sure. It had been a couple of months since Jack had vanished already. They were doing alright without him, but the team just wasn't the same and she knew it. But what else could she do? They couldn't just sit around and wait for Jack to turn up again, so they'd have to keep going, no matter what.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The Master smirked at the laptop, watching the brightly costumed creatures dance and sing and bounce around. Behind him, in a flash of light, one of the floating metal aliens he'd called "Toclafane" appeared. He glanced at it briefly before turning back to the laptop.

"Have you seen these things?" he asked it, smiling. "This planet is _amazing. _Television, in their stomach. Now _that _is evolution!"

_"Is the machine ready?" _the Toclafane asked in its high, mechanical voice.

The Master took a drink, not taking his eyes off the computer, "Tomorrow morning," he said, "It reaches critical at 8:02 precisely."

_"We have to escape!" _the voice was desperate now, _"Because it's coming, Sir! The darkness! The never-ending darkness! And the terrible, terrible cold! We have to run and run and run!"_

The Master pressed a hand against his head, closing his eyes for a moment to hide his annoyance. "Eight o'clock, tomorrow morning," he repeated. "Tell your people. The world is waiting."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"No, no," Mycroft Holmes shook his head. He was sitting in a large, ornate office, holding a phone to his ear and on the verge of perhaps his tenth cigarette of the evening. He hated smoking. Despised it, especially when his brother did it. But today was a day for smoking if there ever was one.

"This is a public relations nightmare!" he said, annoyed. More and more often he found himself wondering how such brainless idiots had found themselves jobs in politics. "I want you to listen to me very carefully. I'll even speak slowly so that you may comprehend it… The Prime Minister did not intend to slight the President. He only meant to bring the United Kingdom, and the rest of the world, into open contact with a new species. There is no reason for anyone to be offended. Of course the President may attend if he wishes; that invitation has been extended by Mr. Saxon himself."

It took several more minutes of arguing before Mycroft was able to get off the phone. He closed his eyes and slipped another cigarette between his lips. "Idiots," he muttered to himself. It had been a nightmare attempting to clear up the mess Saxon had made that morning with his announcement about the Toclafane, further instilling Mycroft's utter dislike of the man.

Not to mention, the odd disappearance of the cabinet. They'd "gone into seclusion", according to Saxon. Mycroft had never heard of such a thing and was amazed that more people weren't asking questions. Of course, from what he'd observed, most of those people never asked questions for very long.

"Sir," a young women tapped on the door and entered carrying a file which she passed over to him.

He sighed heavily and snuffed out the cigarette, "What is it?" he asked, flipping the file open.

"The Jones files, Mr. Holmes," she said, "The Prime Minister has sent out search parties to collect the rest of the group. Apparently, they set off a bomb in the middle of London this afternoon."

Mycroft frowned, remembering that. An entire family being brought in… Leo and Martha Jones were on the run, apparently. Miss Jones was with three men, none of whom he'd ever seen before. He nodded briskly and snapped the folder shut.

"Very well, is that all?"

"Yes, Sir," the woman nodded and quickly left the office, leaving Mycroft alone to brood and smoke in peace.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Jack, Reid, Martha and the Doctor settled for the night in an old junk yard. Jack got a fire going and they'd sent Martha to go and pick up food for them. Martha hadn't touched her phone since her call to Leo had been interrupted and Jack was wary of attempting to call his team again, not wanting the Master to be able to trace their location.

"Anything new?" Martha asked.

"No," Jack said, "We've got the laptop tuned into the Saxon Website so if we get an update from Saxon we'll know,"

Martha sighed, "I meant about my family," she said.

The Doctor, who was leaning over the laptop screen with his glasses on, shook his head. "Still says the Jones family's been taken in for questioning. Tell you what though, no mention of Leo."

Martha smiled, relieved to hear a bit of good news at least. "Not as daft as he looks," she said, sitting down and helping the others get their food out. "God, I'm talking about my brother on the run. How did this happen?"

They ate for a few minutes in silence before Martha caught Jack's eye and jerked her head toward the Doctor. Jack sighed and swallowed quickly, glancing at the Doctor and watching him eat for a moment.

"So, Doctor," he said, "Who is he? How come the ancient society of Time Lords created a psychopath?"

Reid tensed a bit and looked up, watching the Doctor for a reaction. He didn't really seem to react much, eating and probably trying his best to pretend they weren't asking him about the Master and his past.

"And what is he to you, anyway?" Martha asked, "A friend or…"

"A friend, at first," the Doctor shrugged like it was nothing, but Reid, who was sitting closest to him, caught the look that passed through his eyes. Betrayal, hurt, anger. There was clearly a history there even though the Doctor didn't want to talk about it.

Martha laughed, "I thought you were gonna say he was your long-lost brother or something,"

The Doctor glanced up at her with wide eyes, "You watch too much TV," he informed her shaking his head.

"But… all the stories about Gallifrey," Jack said, "They made it sound so perfect."

Reid didn't mean to speak up, but he did anyway, "No society is perfect," he said, "Especially not one with as much power as they had. If the Daleks hadn't started that last Time War, the Time Lords would've started another. It was only a matter of time. That much power doesn't come without a price."

The Doctor frowned, "You know about the Time War?"

He nodded slowly, not meeting the Doctor's eyes as he leaned forward. "How much?"

"Most of it," Reid said. "Ri- A friend of yours told me about it and you explained some…"

The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment before turning back to Jack, "He's right. I mean, for a society, Time Lords were far from perfect, but Gallifrey was beautiful. Used to call it the Shining World of the Seven Systems. And on the continent of Wild Endeavor, in the mountains of Solace and Solitude, there stood the citadel of the Time Lords. The oldest and mightiest race in the Universe… looking down on the galaxies bellow."

He got a far away, dreamy look on his face talking about Gallifrey and Reid smiled a bit sadly. He had been running for so long and he obviously missed his home and now, he could never go back because Gallifrey was gone forever. He couldn't imagine how hard that must be.

He told them about the Academy that every child of Gallifrey entered at eight years old, where the Master first looked into the Untempered Schism.

"That's when the Master saw eternity," he said, "As a novice he was taken for initiation. Stood in front of the Untempered Schism, it's a gap in the fabric of reality, through which could be seen the whole of the Vortex. You stand there, eight years old, staring at the raw power of time and space just churning… Some would be inspired. Some would run away. And some would go mad…"

He paused, taking a deep breath and straightening up, shaking his head to clear the thoughts of his past and his home before grabbing his food and starting to eat again.

"What about you?" Martha asked.

The Doctor grinned, "Oh, the ones that ran away! I never stopped!"

Reid smiled at that, shaking his head. Of course. The Doctor. Always running.

The beeping of Jack's Vortex Manipulator interrupted the moment and Jack frowned, lifting the flap to reveal the buttons beneath and reading the screen, "Encrypted folder with files attached… Can make it out…"

"Patch it through to the laptop," the Doctor said, sitting the food aside and leaning forward.

Jack cleared his throat, meeting Reid's eyes for a moment, "Um… since we're telling stories, there's something I haven't told you," he said slowly, eyeing the Doctor warily. He had no idea how the Doctor was going to react, but he nodded to the screen and pressed a button on the leather band.

The screen turned black and suddenly the monitor was dominated by the Torchwood logo. The Doctor's eyes got black and stormy. "You work for Torchwood?" he turned to glare angrily at Jack and the former Time Agent looked away, shaking his head.

"After Canary Wharf the old regime was completely destroyed. I rebuilt it in your honor; it's completely different!"

The Doctor remained tight lipped and Reid sighed, "He's telling the truth, Doctor. It's not the same organization you met before."

The Doctor didn't bother asking how Reid knew that, instead ignoring him and silently nodding to the laptop screen and Jack sighed, playing the video. A blond woman appeared on the screen, explaining that she'd set the email to send if she wasn't back by a certain time, telling them that she'd attached files about Harold Saxon.

"_But take a look at the Archangel Network,"_ she warned them, _"That's where it all started."_

"What's the Archangel Network?" the Doctor frowned.

"I've got Archangel, everyone does," Martha explained, pulling out her phone.

"It's a mobile phone network," Jack said, "It's gone worldwide."

Reid nodded, "I remember that," he said, smiling faintly at the memory, "Garcia was all excited about it when the FBI started using it. Said it was supposed to be the best network out there, faster than any of the others and clearer…" he blinked a few times, "I don't even remember what happened to it."

Jack pulled up the file and frowned, "They've got 15 satellites in orbit… Even other networks are carried by Archangel."

The Doctor took Martha's phone and his sonic screwdriver, "It's in the phones! Oh, I said he was a hypnotist!" he said, shaking his head as he used the sonic to get a better look at the network.

"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on!"

A moment later a Martha's phone began beeping out a four-beat rhythm. _Beep, beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep, beep. _Reid tilted his head, frowning. That beat was familiar. It was the beat that the Master was constantly tapping out with his fingers, drumming them against any solid surface he could.

"Is it some kind of mind control?" he asked.

"No, subtler than that," the Doctor shook his head, "Any strong-willed person would questions. But beneath that code, small whispers saying 'Vote Saxon. Believe in me'. Whispering to the world…" he paused frowning thoughtfully, eyes going distant. Reid was beginning to recognize that look and knew that any moment now the Doctor would have some kind of epiphany.

"Oh, yes! That's how he hid himself from me! 'Cos I should've known there was another Time Lord on Earth! I should've known way back! The signal canceled him out…"

"Can you stop it?" Reid asked, frowning down at the phone.

The Doctor smiled, "Not from down here," he said. "But now we know how he's doing it." And Reid knew, right then, that the Doctor had a plan. Some way to stop the Master. And if Reid remembered correctly, the Master was supposed to meet with the Toclafane at eight in the morning. At 8:03, the President was killed and Saxon went crazy. This would all be over by tomorrow morning.

Martha grinned, relieved to know that they were finally going to do something. She wanted her family freed as soon as possible.

"And we can fight back!" she said excitedly.

The Doctor met her eyes and grinned at her, "Oh, yes!" he said, eyes sparkling brilliantly. "We've got a lot of work to do! So let's get to it!"

* * *

**~DW/CM~**

* * *

**A/N: **So, next chapter is the end of Part II: _The Sound of Drums_ and you'll get to hear from more of the other characters again there. I kept it to Sherlock and Torchwood this time since Saxon was in the UK and it affected them more directly at this point… But I think you'll get to see more from the CM team, may the CBI and possible NCIS next chapter. Maybe even Sam and Dean as well ;) And then, The Year of Hell is where things REALLY take off.

Hope you enjoyed! Please review and let me know what you think!


	5. Part II: The Sound of Drums: Chapter 3

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **Thanks so much to all of the amazing reviewers! You guys are awesome and I really appreciate your support and comments!

So, I've decided that yes, Supernatural will be part of this crossover. Unfortunately, no John seeing as this takes place in 2007 and John was gone then. And no Cas either, unfortunately. Sam, Dean, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Ash. For Supernatural it'll be in late season 2 (obviously before "All Hell Breaks Loose") around the time Dean tells Sam that John warned him about Sam's destiny (not that it's entirely relevant except that you know who's still alive and who's not.)

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter! Please let me know what you think!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part II: **_**The Sound of Drums**_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Reid watched curiously as the Doctor pulled out four keys that belonged to the TARDIS and slipped a string through them. He'd already had them start taking apart the laptop and welding things onto the keys for whatever his plan was, which, at the moment, Reid only vaguely followed.

"What are the keys for?"

"Four TARDIS keys," The Doctor explained, "Four parts of the TARDIS, all with low-level perception power because the TARDIS is designed to blend in. …Well, sort of."

Reid raised a brow, lifting one of the keys, "The keys themselves can alter perceptions?"

"Mildly. Not powerful enough for what we need," The Doctor said, "But, now, this Archangel network has its own low-level perception signal. So, weld the key to the network and… Martha? Look at me, you can see me, yes?"

"Yep, of course," Martha nodded while Reid and Jack turned and watched curiously. Reid was pretty sure he was following him now. He didn't know exactly how perception filters worked (he'd love to have a chance to really study that) but he figured the keys were supposed behave like some sort of… sheild to be hide them from the Master and the police.

The Doctor held up one of the keys on a string and looped it over his neck, "What about now?"

Reid blinked and frowned, squinting his eyes and noticed Martha doing the same. He tried to focus on the Doctor, but it was like he couldn't quite get his eyes to shift to where he was standing. He _knew _he was standing there, but he was sort of an afterthought, out of focus.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, knowing exactly what was happening with the perception filter having used the one in Cardiff frequently with Torchwood.

"I'm here," the Doctor said, wiggling his fingers. "Look at me."

"It's like… I know you're there," Martha said, frowning, "But I don't wanna know."

The Doctor grinned, slipping the key from around his neck, "And back again!" he said, going back over to the other keys. "See? It just shifts your perception a tiny bit. Doesn't make us invisible, just unnoticed."

He paused, trying to think of a way to explain it. Then he smiled and turned Martha excited, "Oh! I know what it's like! It's like when you fancy someone and they don't even know you exist. That's what it's like! Come on!"

Reid pressed his lips together and Jack signed shaking his head sadly, "You too, huh?" he said, giving her a look so pitying it made her want to scream as he followed after the Doctor. Martha sighed and shook her head.

"If it means anything," Reid said quietly, "I don't think he actually doesn't notice you…"

Martha snorted, "Could've fooled me,"

"It's that he doesn't want to,"

"Thanks, Spencer, I feel so much better now,"

Reid smiled a bit, "No, that's not how I meant it… I just… I think he's scared to hurt you. It hasn't really been that long since he lost Rose, I don't think, and he blames himself for that. It's not you, it's just him."

Martha smiled and shook her head, "Well, at least one of us has the sense not to fall over him like some love-sick teenager," she said.

Reid looked away and nodded, "Yeah…" he said slowly, sounding just a bit uncertain and clearing his throat. "Come on, we should, uh, catch up with them."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Mycroft frowned down at the file for the Jones girl and her partners. Names hadn't been given for two of the men and the third one was apparently Spencer Reid, a young FBI agent. Who was still in the United States and couldn't have possibly been anywhere near Martha Jones or her family, he'd checked.

He'd looked into the Jones family as well, discreetly, of course. And found nothing of consequence. They were a normal, boring family with their own normal, boring problems. Martha was a medical student, Tish was a PR worker for Saxon, Leo was working at a garage at the moment, but taking classes to get a better job, the parents were divorced, father a construction worker, mother didn't work. They were not the usual terrorists that he dealt with by any stretch of the imagination.

One of the unnamed partners of the still-at-large Miss Jones had been identified as Jack Harkness. A name Mycroft knew well, though he'd never personally met the man. Leader of the "clandestine" Torchwood. The name had been cropping up more and more lately, he'd been handling complaints from Scotland Yard about Torchwood taking over cases and interfering in their business. Officially, Torchwood didn't even exist, but digging through miles of red tape one could find that they were a sort of government agency that only handled special cases.

What "special" meant wasn't mentioned, but Mycroft knew that too. Alien hunters.

He'd known about Torchwood since before Canary Wharf, though back then what they did wasn't exactly clear to even him. Then came the ghosts and Cybermen and those metal flying things and Torchwood was gone for a long time before it came back with an entirely new attitude. Still trying to hide in the shadows, but coming out more and more.

Harkness was an interesting case because the more Mycroft found out, the less he really knew. The other man was still unidentified, but he'd put calls through to contacts in every government agency he could while avoiding the attention of Saxon. He still didn't trust the man and the President was arriving in just a few short hours so he'd have to be as prepared as possible to deal with the political mess that was descending.

First things first, however, he wanted to know exactly what happened with the Jones family. Unfortunately, that would require quite a bit more legwork than he was willing to do.

_"Brother dear," _his younger brother's voice was a sarcastic sneer over the phone. _"Surprised you had time to call, with all the fires you've no doubt been putting out lately thanks to our new Prime Minister."_

"I don't have time for this, Sherlock," Mycroft sighed, "I have something I need you to look into. I assume you've heard about the Jones family?"

_"Of course," _Sherlock scoffed, _"And that ridiculous story about them being terrorists. I hope that wasn't your idea, Mycroft, it's really quite beneath your intelligence."_

"Not mine. Saxon's," Mycroft said. "Whatever happened with that family, Saxon's keeping it hidden."

_"So hidden even the great Mycroft Holmes can't find the truth on his own?"_

"Sherlock!" Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose, "There is something very wrong here and it's only just beginning. I need you to find out what really happened with the Joneses."

_"Why should I?"_

"We are talking about the fate of the entire United Kingdom, little brother," Mycroft said tersely.

_"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Mycroft," _Sherlock said, _"You know I could care less about your political games."_

Mycroft sighed and lifted the photograph of Jack, studying it, "It involves Torchwood," he said quietly.

_"What? How?" _Now Sherlock was interested.

"Captain Jack Harkness is among the fugitives with Miss Martha Jones,"

_"…I'll look into it,"_

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Prentiss perched on the edge of her desk, Morgan, JJ, Garcia and Reid all gathered around her as well. Hotch and Gideon were standing behind her. All around the BAU, paperwork had been left undone as agents stood around, watching the television that was tuned in the news.

Air Force One was about to land in London to meet with Prime Minister Harold Saxon.

"I can't believe he thought he could just flaunt contact with aliens and not have UNIT get involved," JJ said, shaking her head.

"I can't believe people believe he's telling the truth," Morgan said, "C'mon, aliens? Really?"

"How can you still be skeptical about extraterrestrial life forms?" Reid asked, "After what happened last year?"

Morgan made a face, shaking his head, "I'm sure half that stuff can explained as mass hysteria and pranks gone really bad."

"What about the stuff that can't be explained?" JJ demanded, "Not everything is so black and white these days. Weird things have been happening more and more often."

Morgan nodded, "Okay, fine, so maybe there is something out there we can't explain. Doesn't make it aliens, and even if it is, this guy was just elected and all of a sudden he's contacted by floating metal aliens? No, this is either fake or the guy's a nut-job."

"Oh, c'mon, have a little faith, Derek!" Garcia grinned, "This could be like a Sci-Fi movie! What if the aliens are evil and try to steal all the women and children?" her eyes sparkled as she teased him and Morgan laughed.

"You wouldn't have anything to worry about, Baby Girl," he said, "I'd be here to protect you."

"Shh," Prentiss suddenly straightened up, "They landed!"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It was dark and a bit cold as Martha, Jack, Reid and the Doctor managed to sneak their way into the huge and vacated airport where the Master was meeting with the President. Reid felt a bit uneasy, standing there, watching President Winters talk with Saxon. UNIT had just taken total control over the entire operation and the meeting with the Toclafane was to take place on board the UNIT ship, _Valiant._

Reid was surprised at how little the Master seemed to be bothered by America's butting in. He seemed more concerned about whether or not the event would still be televised.

"Since it's too late to pull out now and since Britain elected an ass, yes, the world will be watching," Winters said, glaring at Saxon furiously. "Me."

Saxon grinned and watched the President and his men go back to their SUVs and drive off. He took Lucy's hand and leaned in close, "The last president of America," he said cheerfully. As everyone cleared away, the Master turned and stared toward where they were standing, squinting his eyes suspiciously for a moment.

Reid swallowed roughly and felt Martha's hand grip his tightly again, until Saxon turned away and a Police van pulled up.

The Master grinned and began jumping around excitedly as Martha's parents and sister were pulled out of the van and herded away. He was laughing and taunting them like a child, eyes shining with joy.

"Don't move," the Doctor hissed quietly to Martha, sensing her urge to rush at her family.

"But –"

"Don't," he said, "Not now."

"I'm gonna kill him," Martha whispered, her throat tight as she stared at her family. The only good thing she'd seen was that there was still no sign of Leo. At least for now her brother was still safe.

"I say we use these perception filters to sneak up on him and snap his neck," Jack said quietly.

The Doctor turned to Jack, giving him an odd look. "Now that sounds like Torchwood," he said.

Jack flinched a bit, but didn't look away. "Still a good plan,"

Reid couldn't help but agree. Everything the Master had done, all the people he'd hurt, he would just continue to hurt more people, kill more people, if they didn't stop him.

"He's a Time Lord," the Doctor said, "That makes him my responsibility. I'm not here to kill him, I'm here to save him."

Reid felt a pit in his stomach at those words, but shook it off and cleared his throat, "The _Valiant,_" he said quietly, "That's where they're going, right?"

Jack nodded, pushing buttons on his Vortex Manipulator, "Yeah, it's a UNIT ship. I've got the coordinates here."

"Does that thing work as a teleport?" the Doctor asked, glancing at it curiously.

"Since you re-vamped it, yeah,"

"Good. That's how we get on board."

Jack nodded seriously and the three of them gripped Jack's wrist as he set the coordinates and they vanished in the blink of an eye.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Up there!" Ianto was the first to spot the building despite Owen's sharp eyes scanning every inch of the wasteland. It had started snowing about ten minutes ago and they were all hugging themselves to keep warm. The sight of the building brought relief to all of them as they quickened their pace, reaching the building in just a few minutes.

It was what looked like an old research center and the power was still going as they entered, lights on, heating, everything.

"I thought this place was abandoned, Tosh?" Gwen frowned, turning to glance at the other woman.

"It is," Tosh said, "Or was, at least. It used to be an old research post but they shut it down years ago. It hasn't been used since then except by Torchwood One, back in the old days. They haven't even been out here since before Canary Wharf."

"Great," Owen sighed, "So either there's someone else here or we are screwed."

Ianto was frowning, standing father inside the building than the rest of them, holding his gun in his hands. It still didn't seem quite right there, the heavy weight on his palm making him nervous as it usually did. "Guys," he called over his shoulder, "I think there's someone in here. I can hear a voice ahead…"

Gwen took a deep breath, "Alright. Ianto, Tosh get behind me and Owen. Stay together. We don't know what's going on yet,"

They eased their way down the dim-lit hall and could definitely hear a male voice speaking from within, though they couldn't figure out who he was talking to. Gwen held up her gun and mouthed instructions to the others before jerking forward and aiming her gun into the room.

The empty room.

There was no one inside at all and the four of them slowly lowered their weapons.

"What the fuck?" Owen frowned, looking around. They could still hear the voice, muffled so they couldn't quite make out the words.

"Over here!" Ianto nodded toward the far corner of the dark room where a television was glowing softly and on the screen was none other than Harold Saxon.

"The Prime Minister?" Tosh frowned, "What?"

Gwen knelt next to the TV and turned the volume up to hear whatever he was saying.

_"-lo, Torchwood! Congratulations! You've done exactly what I knew you would. Isn't it lovely when stupid little pawns play their parts perfectly?"_

"What the hell is he talking about?" Owen frowned, squeezing his gun tighter as he stared around the dark room.

_"You're probably a bit confused by now and no doubt freezing. The Himalayas is so beautiful this time of year, aren't they? And lucky you! That gets to be the last place you'll ever visit on planet earth!"_

"We should leave," Gwen said, the others nodding in agreement and turning toward the door only the find it suddenly slam shut in their faces. "What the -?"

"It's locked!" Tosh said, tugging hard on the handle. "It won't budge."

"Wonderful," Owen muttered, "We're screwed."

_"It's a pity. You all seem like such interesting playthings, but I can't have you messing around with my plans for World Domination, now can I? So, have fun with your little friend. Maybe it'll even be quick, but how boring would that be?"_

The recording stopped, skipped for a moment and then began replaying, _"Hello, Torchwood! Congratulations! You've done exact-"_

It didn't get to finish because Owen shot the television screen and it fizzled out of life, leaving them standing completely in the dark.

"Torches," Gwen snapped, pulling her light from her pack while the others followed suit. "As long as we're stuck here, we might as well figure out why."

"You heard him," Owen said, "Britain's got a fruit loop as Prime Minister,"

"Or a new Hitler," Ianto said, "Apparently."

"Just come on!" Gwen said, shining her light around the room. It was an old computer lab, apparently, but none of the computers looked even remotely functional.

"There's a door!" Tosh announced, "Over here! It's open!"

"Oh, thank God!" Gwen sighed in relief as they pushed the door open and entered another hall, "Maybe there's another way out of here…"

The floor sloped down as they continued walking and led them into what might have been a storage room at one point. Might have been, because that was certainly not what it was now.

"Is that a…"

"Can't be,"

"It is," Ianto's voice shook a bit. "That's a Cyber-conversion Unit."

"Complete with Cyberman," Owen muttered darkly, shining his light onto the metal man currently strapped down in front of them. "Said it before, we're screwed."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

They landed on the _Valiant_ and stumbled, nearly falling down.

"My God that's rough!" Martha winced, shaking her head to clear the pain.

"I've had worse nights," Jack said, cracking his back and blinking a few times. It took them a few minutes to get the feeling of the teleport to wear off, but then they were heading down the dark hall. It was dawn already, the early more sun like a horrible omen to Reid.

They had less than an hour before this ended. He took a breath and hurried to catch up, hearing an odd, horrible noise as he did.

"The TARDIS!" The Doctor's eyes nearly bugged out his head as he stared at her, thrilled to see his ship again.

"What's it doing on board?" Jack frowned as the Doctor rushed to her and threw the doors open, stopping dead as he looked inside.

"Don't touch it!" he warned Jack as the others stepped in after him.

"Wasn't going to," Jack assured him, "…But… what is it?"

"That sound," Reid frowned, "It's awful,"

Martha nodded, "Sounds like she's sick," she said, "What is this, Doctor, what happened?"

The Doctor's eyes were wide with pain and horror as he stared at the TARDIS and the horrible red lights, feeling the pain she felt and hating himself for it. "He's cannibalized the TARDIS," he said grimly.

Jack was studying it with an anxious look on his face, "Is this what I think it is?"

"It's a Paradox Machine," the Doctor's voice had gone dark and angry and the three of them watched cautiously. They all knew well enough how he felt about the TARDIS and couldn't even imagine what he was going through right now, staring at this horror being inflicted on her. He swallowed roughly, shaking his head.

"We'll fix this," he promised. "We don't have much time. Let's go."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Dude, can you believe this?" Dean was sitting on his bed in the motel, lacing up his boot. The television was on, tuned to the news for a change, though that was Sam's doing and not his. He wanted to keep up with any updates they might have on the Winchester brother fugitives. Lately, news about the armed robbery had died down and they hadn't seen Dean's photo on the news in several days.

Sam stuck his head out of the bathroom, frowning, "Believe what?" he asked.

"Aliens," he said, "President flying in to meet 'em and everything. It's crazy."

Sam smiled, "Aliens are crazy? Dean, where were you last year?"

"Come on, Sammy, don't tell me you actually believe that was aliens? There's no way."

"Then what?"

"Demons," Dean said, "I dunno. Demons like we've never seen before. That Yellow Eyed son of a bitch has been planning a war, remember? Maybe longer than we even realized. Maybe they're demons we haven't seen before."

"Demons that wear metal suits?"

"They were converting people, Sam, remember? That's demon MO,"

"Whatever," Sam shrugged, "Aliens or demons doesn't really matter. Apparently the ones Saxon met are safe enough,"

"Yeah. And creepy. Didn't you hear that voice? It was like a kid or something. Dude, what if they're like possessed metal balls or some spirit is controlling them or something?"

"Crazier things have happened," Sam conceded, tugging his boots on as well.

"Exactly. Ask me," Dean said, "I say the President and that Prime Minister don't know what the hell they're screwing with, but it's probably bad news. Always is, right? Casper the friendly ghost just doesn't exist."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Right, well, I don't really care, Dean. We're here to do a job, remember? It's almost midnight."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Dean sighed, clicking off the TV and grabbing the keys to the Impala. "Let's go find us a dead guy,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

They stood in the back of the meeting room in the _Valiant, _listening to the President's speech. Reid was nervous, tense and watching the clock as the Doctor explained the plan. They would get the key around the Master's neck and people would see him for what he was. Of course, with everyone on Red Alert, that would be difficult.

He was tense as the Doctor began moving slowly, carefully as the clock struck 8 and the Toclafane appeared. Two minutes. Two minutes until the President died.

Saxon suddenly jumped up, announcing that he was The Master over the Toclafane and the Doctor stood frozen for a second when the Master gave the order to kill the president. "Oh God…" Martha gasped as he fell and the Doctor moved as quickly as he dared to get to the Master.

"Grab him!" The Master suddenly yelled the Doctor found himself held in tight hands. "Doctor! We meet at last! Ooh, I love saying that!" he grinned brightly. Reid, Martha and Jack reacted without thinking, running forward and Master reacted quickly, pointing a screwdriver at them, a bright light shooting out and hitting Jack square in the chest, where he fell. Dead.

"Laser screwdriver," The Master grinned, "Who'd have sonic?"

Martha and Reid knelt by Jack's body, gripping his hands as people around them panicked.

"And the best part is, he's not dead for long! I get to kill him again!" the Master grinned brightly, laughing excitedly.

"Master, just stop! If you could see yourself, please –"

The Master grinned brightly down at him before addressing the TV crews that were still filming for God knows why. "Excuse us, personal business. Be a moment. Let him go!"

The Doctor was thrown down to the ground roughly and Martha and Reid watched in horror, flinching as he shoved himself up and stared up at his adversary desperately, "Master, please, just listen to me. It's the noise in your head, the drums! I can help you, you can stop this!"

"Oh, how to shut him up?" he mused, mocking him before kneeling down to his level, "Oh I know!" he grinned brightly as he snatched the Doctor's head up and twirled the screwdriver idly in his hands, eyes dancing as he dangled it under the Doctor's chin and suddenly gripped his temple harshly.

The Doctor screamed, his mind assaulted with a thousand different, horrible images and sounds before the Master shoved him away and switched something on the screwdriver, a red laser shooting out this time and hitting the Doctor.

"Doctor!" Reid was the first to reach his side when the Master's attack stopped and the Doctor lay on the ground, panting and gasping, hardly able to breath. Martha was right behind him though Jack was still recovering from his previous death.

"Oh, she's a would-be Doctor!" The Master grinned, "And the Doctors newest little pet…" his eyes sparkled and Reid forced himself not to look up at the man. "But tonight, we've flown them in all the way from prison, just for you, Martha Jones, YOUR FAMILY!"

The Jones family was ushered in by the guards and the Master was grinning broadly as he watched her face turn to stone. He grinned triumphantly and turned to the people and cameras, addressing them as the new Lord and Master as the sky above them cracked and millions, or perhaps even billions, of Toclafane descended from the sky.

The Doctor grabbed Martha and pulled her down, whispering something Reid didn't quite catch as he held the Doctor's hand, unable to look away from the sight of the sky darkening with those things. This was wrong. This was not what had happened at all. This ended almost as soon as the president died. What was going on?

"Remove one tenth of the population!"

The Master's voice rang out loudly over the speakers and the Toclafane began flying dizzyingly fast, black blurs in the dark sky, to obey their Master.

Martha nodded, swallowing tears and moving back to Jack, not realizing that Reid wasn't with her at first. She took Jack's Vortex Manipulator and he gripped her hand tightly, "Get Reid and go," he said, "Hurry."

She stood, her legs feeling like jelly, and moved toward Spencer to grab him and get out of there, but as the speakers of the _Valiant _began playing "Voodoo Child" loudly and Lucy Saxon began to dance giddily with her husband, the Master saw her.

"Stop her!"

Reid wasn't looking at first and was too far away for her to teleport with him. She swallowed roughly and looked back to Jack, who yelled "GO!" and she looked toward her family, chained and terrified. Tears were trailing down her face as she pressed the button with shaky hands and was gone in the blink of an eye.

The Master didn't look altogether too worried to have lost Martha, he was certain he could get her back easily. She was no threat and he wasn't going to let anything ruin this moment for him. He spun around and yanked the Doctor to his feet as guards grabbed Reid and Jack and pulled them toward the Jones family.

"And so it came to pass that the human race fell. And the earth was no more," the Master said, his hand resting on the Doctor's shoulder as he supported his still weakened body and forced him to look out the window and down to the horror that was the earth bellow.

"And I looked down upon my new dominion as master of all. And I thought it good."

* * *

**~DW/CM~**

* * *

**A/N: **And this ends "The Sound of Drums"! Coming soon: "The Year of Hell"! This ought to be fun.

And yes, I know, the Master actually aged the Doctor in the end, but I hated that so I changed it. Not really gonna have an effect on the outcome, torture is just so much more appealing, you know?

Anyway. Hope you enjoyed! The REAL fun is just beginning and I've got so many more characters to introduce! Please review!


	6. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter One

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N:** Thanks so much to the reviewers! You guys are amazing and make me smile! And I am thrilled to *finally* be able to present you with the first chapter of _The Year of Hell_! I will warn you that this is going to get a bit dark in some places seeing as it's Armageddon and all that, plus we're dealing with the Master as ruler of the Earth. Fun to write, not so fun to experience, I'm guessing.

Here's a quick reminder of all the characters who will most likely be making appearances just so you remember:

**Criminal Minds: **Hotch, Gideon, JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Reid. Possibly Rossi, Strauss, Elle, Diana.

**Torchwood: **Gwen, Owen, Tosh, Ianto.

**Sherlock: **Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade. Possibly Mrs. Hudson, Moriarty, Sarah, Harry Watson.

**NCIS: **Abby, Tony, Gibbs, McGee, Ducky, Ziva. Possibly Jenny.

**Supernatural: **Sam, Dean, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Ash. Possibly Ava, Jake, John (_flashbacks_), Mary (_flashbacks_), Meg.

**The Mentalist: **Jane, Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby. Possibly Van Pelt, Hightower, Minelli, Brett Styles.

And also remember that this takes place in 2007 (which is the unfortunate reason I cannot include Castiel, Lilith, Ruby or Lucifer). I've decided season 2 for Criminal Minds and Supernatural, obviously between seasons 1 and 2 for Torchwood, season 3 for NCIS and pre-series for Sherlock and The Mentalist.

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter! Please let me know what you think!

Don't forget to review!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

As the song came to an end, Reid could hear the panicked and terrified voices screaming over the radio, begging for help as the Toclafane massacred them. Millions of innocent people being torn to shreds by those things and there was nothing he could do about it.

The Master seemed practically giddy with his excitement, eyes dancing as he watched the carnage below.

"Take them to the cells," he waved dismissively at the guards who were holding Reid, Jack and the Jones family. The guards hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do. After all, they'd just watched Saxon murder the president and bring forth an army of deadly aliens. He certainly wasn't the man they'd assumed to be working for. But with a raised brow and a sharp look, the men quickly herded them out of the _Valiant's _conference room and into the prison cells below.

"The Doctor and I have a bit of catching up to do," The Master continued, smiling gleefully at his other prisoner and motioning for two men to come forward and grab him. They did so reluctantly, eyeing Saxon with fear and trepidation as they hedged toward the Doctor and pulled his arms behind his back.

The Doctor could barely stand on his own anyhow. The blast from the Master's laser screwdriver hadn't been lethal, as it had been with Jack, but it was certainly enough to take him out of commission for a couple of hours at least.

"Now then, Doctor," the Master grinned, as if he absolutely loved saying the Doctor's name, "Let's have a little chat. There's so much you've just _got _to tell me!"

Reid craned his neck, trying to watch as the guards dragged the Doctor away, the Master leading them to another area of the ship, but the guards just shoved him forward a bit harder, clearly worried about being on Saxon's bad side.

They were thrown into a small cell, hardly enough room for all of them to fit and certainly not enough seating space. There was one lone bench, large enough for maybe three people, and nothing else. Not a window, a sink, a toilet. Nothing but dark grey walls and iron bars.

"Damn it!" Jack swore, slamming his hand against the bars as the guards quickly vanished down the labyrinth of halls once more, leaving them alone.

Reid moved to stand next to Jack while Mr. and Mrs. Jones sat next to Tish, Francine wrapping her arms around her daughter's shoulders, the two of them rocking back and forth slowly.

"This isn't right," Reid whispered, his voice hollow as he stared forward, not looking at Jack at all.

"Of course it's not right, Spencer! That psychopath just took control of the whole world!"

Reid shook his head slowly, "No, that's not what I meant…" he said, "I… I mean, _this_, all of it, is wrong. This isn't how it happens."

Jack froze, blinked once and slowly turned to look at Reid. Reid could feel his eyes burning into the side of his skull but he still didn't look at Jack. He felt knots tying up in his stomach. Was it something he'd done? Something he'd said? Or hadn't said? Maybe he should have warned the Doctor about the Toclafane and the president's assassination.

"…What do you mean? You've been here before?"

Reid hesitated to answer, not sure how to explain it. "Yes and no," he said, "I'm from near the end of 2011 and this happened in 2007. This all happened to me in my past, but back then, I remember hearing about it on the news. We stayed at the office late to watch Air Force One landing in London and the next day, President Winters was killed on live television by the Toclafane."

"You knew this was going to happen?" For just a second, Jack sounded truly outraged and Reid felt guilt wash over him. "Why didn't you say something? Warn us! We might have been able to change it!"

"No, you don't understand, Jack," Reid shook his head, "Winters was killed at 8:02 that morning, London time. Almost immediately after that, Harold Saxon disappeared, people said he snapped and no one's seen him since. There was no Toclafane attack, the Master never took control. This isn't what happened; it should be over by now."

Jack's brows furrowed together as he leaned against the cell bars, "So maybe something altered the timeline. Maybe you being here changed things,"

"It's possible," Reid conceded, "But I was careful. I hardly told the Doctor anything at all, so how could things have gone this wrong?"

"That's a good question…" Jack frowned thoughtfully.

"E-Excuse me," Tish suddenly spoke, breaking free of her mother's arms and standing, approaching them. "You two know Martha?"

Jack and Reid turned and slowly faced the Jones family, both looking suddenly extremely uncomfortable.

"Sorta," Jack nodded, "We just met."

Reid agreed, "About three days ago I met her,"

"… Where… Where is she? Where did she go?" Tish's voice warbled a little and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. It nearly broke Reid's heart to see her so frightened and worried. She didn't deserve this. None of them did.

Jack swallowed, "She'll be fine," he assured her, "And we'll fix this."

"Exactly how do you plan on doing that?" Francine Jones was more angry than frightened at the moment. Anger was easier for her to deal with than fear and she wasn't about to break down in front of her daughter, ex-husband and two total strangers anyway.

"The Doctor," Reid and Jack said at the same time, ignoring Francine's confused and disbelieving look.

"Trust us," Jack said, "If anyone can find a way out of this, it's him."

Reid nodded, "He'll have a plan, he always seems to."

"Until then, let's focus on surviving this nightmare, okay?" Jack said, glancing back down the empty hall for a moment. "Seeing as we aren't going anywhere anytime soon, let's talk. Spencer and I can explain everything. Well, most of it."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It was nearing three in the morning in Virginia and CNN was still broadcasting the live conference from onboard the _Valiant. _Most of the state was still awake, glued to their television screens to watch what the White House was calling "the most groundbreaking, revolultionary meeting in recorded history".

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not most people and could be found instead in the basement of his house, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table and a sander in his hand. He was almost entirely oblivious to the chaos that descended onto the world until he heard the shattering of a window upstairs and froze.

Keen eyes glued themselves to the basement door and he sat the sander down, reaching instead for the loaded gun he kept in reach at all times. Another window shattered and he headed toward the door cautiously, hearing things break and shatter upstairs.

He was almost entirely silent as he pushed the basement door open and eased his way into the upper level of the house, looking around. It was almost as if a bomb had gone off inside the room, and if anyone knew what that looked like it was Gibbs. But there was no one insight and there was no way anyone had busted in and left that quickly.

He heard a faint whirring noise and spun around just in time to feel something hot and sharp tear through the skin on his arm.

"Goddammit!" he swore loudly as he spun to face his attacker and his face suddenly froze incredulously as he stared at a floating black ball with winking white and yellow lights.

"What the hell?"

The thing started coming at him again and he backed up quickly, firing off two shots that grazed off the ball like nothing, Gibbs didn't think they'd even left a dent in the metal. When a second one appeared behind the first Gibbs decided it was time to stop taking chances and ran for the door, the things right on his tail.

He emptied his clip at the bastards, but they just kept right on coming and he only just managed to slam the door of his vehicle and slam his foot on the gas when they showed up. One of the blades spinning around the machines managed to scrape a decent chunk out of the driver side door, but they weren't quite fast enough to catch him.

Breathing heavily, arm bleeding and throbbing and too many unanswered questions buzzing around in his mind, Gibbs ended up going to the only place he knew to go. NCIS headquarters.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"It's after three in the morning," Prentiss yawned and blinked her eyes. "We should get some sleep."

Hotch had already gone home for the night an hour ago; Hailey wasn't the most happy about him working late on cases, but to stay late and watch the news with the team? Well, she would've been less than forgiving then. Gideon was gone as well, going home to his apartment to watch the coverage. The rest of the team ended up holed up in Garcia's office, watching live coverage of the _Valiant._

"It's barely started yet!" Reid complained, "How many chances are we going to get to see real aliens on television?"

"_If _they are real aliens, Kid," Morgan said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "This could all be a hoax you know."

"We could do what sensible people do," JJ said, leaning back in her seat. "What the recap tomorrow."

"But this is live, Jayje," Garcia argued. "If the aliens are real do you wanna be the one to tell your kids you watched the recap because you were tired?"

JJ smiled and shook her head, "It's way past my bedtime," she said, "Staying up 'til three in the morning hasn't been acceptable since college."

Morgan laughed and started to say something when they all heard the screams on the TV monitor and their eyes shot back to the screen to watch in horror as the Toclafane shot President Winters.

"Oh… Oh my God," JJ's eyes were wide in shock.

Saxon was grinning joyously as he declared himself Master of all and the team watched in silent horror as a man they hadn't even noticed before was tortured. Just when they thought it couldn't get any worse, Prentiss gasped.

"Reid!"

"What?" the young man frowned, glancing at his co-worked whose eyes were riveted to the screen.

"No, look! That's… that's you." She pointed at the screen and sure enough, just a little to the front of the crowd, kneeling over a dead body was none other than Spencer Reid. He looked a bit different but there was no mistaking him.

"How…?" Reid's eyes were wide as he stared at himself on the screen. "That's impossible!"

"That's you, Reid," Morgan shook his head in disbelief, "Looks like you've got a doppelganger."

And just at that moment, all Hell broke loose.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Martha landed with a thud on the ground below and stood shakily, looking up and seeing the sky blotted with Toclafane, millions of them at least, like an angry swarm of locusts. She could hear distant screams and if she tilted her head back, she could just make out the _Valiant _in the sky, the only place the Toclafane hadn't touched. She prayed that meant that her family, at least, was safe from them.

Clutching Jack's Vortex Manipulator, Martha looked around her. She wasn't anywhere she recognized but she must've been near enough to London if she could see the _Valiant _in the skies. She felt sick to her stomach thinking of all the people who were dying, all the pain the Master was inflicting on the world. And right now, she was the only one who could stop it.

Closing her eyes, Martha squared her shoulders resolutely and marched forward, toward the city being destroyed. Whatever happened, she was going to put this right because if she didn't, there was no telling what would become of the world.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Jane?" Teresa Lisbon glanced out at the bullpen as she left her office and spotted the familiar, curly mop of blond hair on the couch. "You're still here? It's after midnight."

Jane didn't respond, just lying there, staring up at the ceiling, hands folded across his chest. Lisbon sighed heavily and shook her head. She'd been working with Patrick Jane for a few years now. Long enough to know exactly what was bothering him at the moment.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking. She wasn't exactly the person to comfort someone readily, she was a bit awkward when it came to emotional scenes and besides that, she despised talking about anyone's personal life at work. But she didn't want Jane to go and do something stupid and he had no one else so what else could she do?

"Jane… you know today was a win, right? You solved the case."

"Meh," Jane shrugged and still didn't look away from the ceiling, sounding dejected and unconvinced.

"We'll get him," she said, "Next time. Don't beat yourself up about this."

For a moment, Jane was silent, then he slowly sat up and looked down at the floor for a second before turning those sad blue eyes on her.

"Next time? That's what everyone keeps saying isn't it? Next time. We'll catch him next time. We never do and then he slips right through your fingers, again. He's smarter than you, all of you, and you think you'll get him 'next time'?"

Lisbon sighed, "Jane, I know you're upset, I know how much this means to you, but Red John is just a man and we will find him one day. You've just got to be patient. Let us do our jobs, alright?"

"Yeah," Jane looked away, eyes fixed on the yellow folder he'd tossed to the floor before lying down. "Patience. I'm not good with patience."

Lisbon snorted, "I've noticed," she said, "But what else can we do, Jane? …Listen, um, Cho and Rigsby said they were going out for drinks. You should've gone with them."

"No," Jane shook his head and slipped back down onto the couch, resting his head against the arm.

Lisbon sighed, "You might have had fun," she said.

"And so would you, yet you didn't go," Jane said, still not looking back at her.

"Who said -," she stopped and rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't. It's late, I'm going home to get some sleep."

"No you're not," Jane argued. "You're going home to sit up all night, alone, thinking about what you could've done different to save that girl today because you think it's your fault she's dead."

Lisbon's jaw locked and she glared at the man, about to tell him he could go screw himself when the window above him shattered, sending glass spilling all over him and suddenly the room was full of the floating black aliens she'd seen on the news earlier.

Her hand went to her gun immediately, "What the -?"

And then the blades came out and began spinning as they approached her.

"Oh my God…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The first place Sherlock went was Francine Jones' home. It was empty at the moment, not even police vans were parked outside any longer. It was no hard feat for Sherlock to slip inside. What he found was, at first, a whole lot of nothing.

The Jones family appeared just as they had on paper. Normal, boring and ultimately unthreatening. Family photographs sat over the mantle. He noticed a distinct lack of photos of Clive Jones and noted that the divorce had obviously not been an amicable one. He'd probably cheated on her.

The house was neat and clean and respectable and just what he'd expect from a divorced mother of three adult children. He had no idea what Saxon could have possibly wanted with these people. There was nothing to suggest anything out of the ordinary in the home.

That is, until he was inspecting the book case and found not one but two small cameras hidden just out of sight. So someone, likely Saxon, had been spying on the Joneses.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself, twirling one of the cameras around between long fingers. Further inspection proved that there were eight more cameras hidden strategically throughout the home and the phones had been wiretapped rather crudely. The wiretapping, at least, the family could not have missed unless they were blind.

So they were being watched, monitored, most likely by Saxon, and very probably knew it. Saxon must've been threatening them. But how? As far as Sherlock could tell, they had nothing of any value to any politician.

He was in the upstairs master bedroom when they came. A least half a dozen of them swarming through the house, blades spinning, lights winking at him.

Sherlock was a fairly well-versed fighter, but he had no idea how he was supposed to combat these things. He ran and ducked and threw any furniture he could lift at them but they just continued coming at him. He ended up with his back to the front door, fingers blindly trying to twist the knob while he tried to hold the Toclafane back with a broken leg from a coffee table.

Not that it did much good, the blades cut right through the wood. Just when Sherlock was absolutely certain that he was a dead man – and just as a general rule, when Sherlock is certain of something it's usually correct – the door sprung open and he nearly fell out of it, being grabbed by a set of surprisingly strong hands and the next thing he knew he was in some junk yard and his head ached like he'd been hit with a bowling ball.

Managing to keep himself on his feet he spun around and came face to face with none other than Martha Jones. Icy blue eyes widened and he pointed what was left of the leg at her, "You've… teleported me somehow…" he said. Clearly there was more going on here than meets the eye.

Martha was breathing heavily, her head aching and her stomach lurching, but she wasn't so disoriented that she didn't managed a shocked expression at how coolly this man took teleportation. "Yeah," she swallowed and cracked her back, wincing and shaking her head to clear it. "Sorry. I did just save your life. Thanks would be nice."

Sherlock raised a brow at her curiously, as if asking why on earth he was required to thank her.

"I have some questions," he said.

Martha snorted, "_You've _got questions? How 'bout you answer mine first? Starting with what the hell you were doing in my mum's house?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It was midmorning and the sun was already bearing down on them in the tent. Dr. John Watson scrubbed his arm over his forehead and wished for air-conditioning. They'd been outside of a small village for several days now, staying in tents. More men than ever were coming in wounded and going home veterans without the use of their arms or legs. It was enough to make John hate the whole bloody world.

Things had been quiet, though, for the last day or so and John was plenty happy not to see any more men bloody and destroyed. From hi experience, it was a kinder thing for them to die in most cases. He couldn't imagine the Hell they were returning home to in the condition so many of them were in.

They were getting ready to go into the village that day, when the bright sky above them suddenly darkened and then the screaming started. Then men grabbed their guns on instinct and raced outside to see what was happening.

At first, they thought it must be some new weapon, but it was killing everyone without any discrimination as far as they could tell.

John hit at least four of them and felt panic when the bullets had little effect on them at all. Once they got closer, he realized they came wielding at least a dozen sharp and lethal blades. The gun in his hands felt heavy and useless but if he couldn't shoot them, he'd just have to find another use for it. He swung it towards the things, three of them chasing him as he ducked, swerved and swung. It batted them away temporarily, but those blades were making a chew toy of the weapon and soon he was sure he'd be out of luck and sliced to pieces.

He stumbled and the gun flew from his grasp as the things descended on him. Heart racing, hands shaking, John closed his eyes and tensed, waiting for the inevitable end. He heard someone grunt and a pained hiss and opened his eyes to see Jake Talley standing over him, one hand gripping one of the blades and swinging the metal thing into the two others.

They collided with such brutal force that sparks flew as the blades mangled one another the things caved in on themselves, the three of them falling to the ground. Breathing heavily, Jake swore under his breath and stared down at the bloody gash on his hand before holding out his uninjured hand to John.

"Bloody hell, Talley," John stared in awe at the other man. "How…?"

Jake smiled a bit, "Told you, Watson. What happened last month wasn't no fluke accident. I can't explain it, but… Sure as hell came in handy today, huh?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

In the dark cemetery, Sam stood above the grave, covered in dirt and holding a muddy shovel, while Dean tossed his shovel to the side and picked up the salt container. They doused the corpse inside the coffin with the salt and lighter fluid and Dean threw in the match, the flames dancing in their eyes.

"Don't you wish it could always be this easy?" Dean asked, glancing over at his brother.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, easy," he muttered. "He almost kill you last night, Dean."

"Yeah, but on the plus side. We found the bones, burned 'em. No more Mr. Angry Spirit."

Sam nodded and grabbed the shovels. "And now, I need a shower."

"Oldest gets to shower first, Sammy,"

"Since when?"

"Since I said,"

Sam smirked and threw the shovels into the trunk of the Impala alongside the salt gun they'd taken just in case the ghost decided to show up and try and stop them. For once, it had been fairly smooth sailing for them.

They were on the road, driving back to the motel when something slammed into the back of the car and Dean frowned, glancing into the rearview mirror. "What the hell was that?"

"No idea," Sam had turned almost all the way around in his seat. There wasn't another car behind them and the night was almost pitch black. "Probably just an animal, Dean,"

But when they got to the motel, they saw a different story. The motel was in shambles, windows busted, doors torn off hinges. People were dead everywhere. The receptionist, the manager. The ten other guests staying in the rundown joint. Not a single survivor. All of them had been ripped to shreds.

"What the hell kind of monster could do this?" Sam asked, kneeling next to the body of a young woman. The sticky blood was pooling around her body and squelched a bit under his boot.

They went back to the Impala to grab their guns and in the faint light from the one not busted streetlamp they saw the damage done from whatever had hit them and Dean almost had a heart attack, his hand hovering over the nasty dent where it looked like something had sliced almost all the way through the trunk lid, tearing metal and paint away with it.

"What did they do to you, Baby?" he whispered, shaking his head as he grabbed his gun.

"Think they're still here?"

"If they're smart, they're gone," Dean said, still eyeing the damage to his car and coming very near hyperventilation. "Because if I find who did this to her, I'm gonna rip them apart."

They approached the motel with caution, fingers resting on the triggers of their guns. It was eerily quiet as they made their way through the reception area and toward the bedrooms again. They had to step over a few dead bodies on their way, but didn't run into anything strange as they neared the back rooms.

The television was going in one of the rooms as they entered. Dean went to turn it off but Sam stopped him.

"Wait, wait, wait," he grabbed Dean's arm and pointed to the screen. "Look…"

It tuned to the news and a shaky camera was showing Toclafane spewing forth from the sky, massacring people in the streets. People screaming and running in panic. Images coming from London, New York, San Francisco. Everywhere. Sam and Dean locked eyes.

"Think that's what happened here?"

Sam glanced down at the dead man on the floor, "Looks like it,"

"Damn," Dean turned the TV off and shook his head. "What'd I say? Those Toclafane things were bad news."

"…Dean, those things are all over the world. How are we supposed to fight something like that?"

"I don't know," Dean frowned, "But we aren't doing it alone."

For a moment, Sam was confused, then he slowly nodded. "Right. Well, we'd better hit the road. It'll take a couple of hours to get to the Roadhouse from here and we don't know how many more of those things are out there."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"I think it's dead," Tosh whispered. None of them were daring to speak too loudly or even get too close to the metal man.

"Let's hope so," Gwen said. "But we should probably get out of here."

"Yeah, I second that," Owen nodded, hand tightened around his gun. "Let's get back to the computer room. Maybe we can shoot our way through the door."

"What if it wakes up?" Ianto's eyes were still glued to the Cyberman, voice shaking just a little.

"Then we'll… we'll kill it." Gwen said, "But I think Tosh is right. It's dead."

"Why would Saxon trap us with a _dead _Cyberman? That's seems slightly pointless," Owen pointed out.

"Well, we can ask him that, once we get out of here. Now come on," Gwen snapped, leading the way back to the computer room. It seemed to have gotten darker since they'd left, but they found the door easily. The hard part would be getting it open since it refused to move an inch.

Owen did try shooting at the locking mechanism, but it did not good. The electric lock just fizzled and sparked and the door still wouldn't budge.

"There's got to be a way out of here," Gwen put her hands on her hips, staring at the door. "If the lock is broken, the door's just heavy. We should be able to push it open."

"Yeah, well, apparently not," Owen said, "In case you missed it, we've been pushing the door for about ten minutes. It's not going anywhere."

"We've got to try something!" Gwen snapped at him.

"How about we try something that might actually work?"

"If you've got a better idea, Owen, let's hear it. Otherwise, shut up and keep pushing."

"Both of you, shut up!" Ianto suddenly snapped. Gwen and Owen fell silent for a moment, staring at Ianto in shock. Just when Owen started to make another smartass remark, Ianto held his hand up and pointed down the hall they'd just come from.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

And faintly, they could hear it. The sound of metal hitting metal in a constant rhythm. Like footsteps. Getting closer.

* * *

**~DW/CM~**

* * *

**A/N: **…So I actually managed to get all the fandoms in there, some a couple of times. More Doctor/Master interaction next chapter and I'm sure you've noticed that not EVERY character will have a part in EVERY chapter. They'd been ridiculously long if I wrote them all in at once. But I can do most of them at least. You'll get to see more NCIS and Mentalist next chapter and Hotch & Gideon as well.

Oh, and in case anyone didn't realize, Jake Talley would be one of the special kids Azazel created, the one with the super-strength. I figured since he and John were both in Afghanistan, what the hell? They can know each other.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review!


	7. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter Two

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **Gah, once more I'm forced to apologize for the lateness of the chapter. I hate that I can't update as fast as I usually do, but alas, that's just how life is currently tormenting me. Also, August 20 the fall semester starts and I'm going to be bogged down with classes and homework, so bear with me if updates get into a bit of a slump.

Thanks to those of you who reviewed last chapter! You guys are phenomenal and I appreciate your support.

I know it seems like I keep adding characters to this thing (and I apologize for that if it's annoying), but I had a thought the other day. I can't possibly include Ruby, Lilith or Lucifer (and I would so adore being able to have Lucifer in this story) because all three of them are in Hell at the time this takes place. However, something dawned on me… **Crowley** isn't introduced in season 2, but he was almost certainly not in Hell because before he became traitor-turned-King of Hell, he was King of the Crossroads, so by my reasoning, he was probably topside for a while. And while **Castiel** isn't introduced (along with any other angels – except Gabriel) until season 4, he HAD to have existed, right? I mean, he was in Heaven and they were planning their Apocalypse up there. Or, well, Michael was at least. So I'm not saying that I definitely WILL include them – because I have no idea HOW I'd include Cas at all – but I am putting the possibility out there just in case. Oh, and that does go doubly for **Gabriel.** I may not include Cas if I can't think of a good reason to have him leave Heaven, but we all know Gabriel's been on Earth for a while and I'm thinking Armageddon might concern him a bit, especially an Armageddon that has _nothing _to do with his brothers. So be prepared if any of them crop up.

And also, as **KMW1968** pointed out, I neglected a couple of "Sherlock" characters who I actually DO plan on including eventually: **Donavan** and **Anderson**.

Anyway, just thought I'd mention that. Any thoughts, let me know.

And please review! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"So, Doctor," the Master circled around the chair the Doctor had been forced into. He had recovered a bit from the earlier attack, able to sit up straight and hold his head still. He was shaking, but it was anger and devastation rather than from pain.

"I think it's time we had a little chat, don't you think? It's been so long…"

The Doctor looked up at the Master, his old friend and adversary. It broke his hearts to see him like this, it always did. He hated what had happened between them, that he couldn't talk to him the same way that he had been able to centuries ago. Well, he _could_, but the Master didn't listen.

"Master, please, just listen to me. You don't have to do this. Let these people go, you can still stop th-" his words were cut off by a rough scream as the Master's laser screwdriver shot a bolt of energy directly at his chest.

He heaved over, breaths shaking, eyes watering.

The Master grabbed his hair and yanked his head back up, bending down to look him in the eye, "Now, let's start again, shall we? I talk, you listen. Whenever I ask you a question, you answer. Or next time it'll be one of your little pets in the cells that gets blasted."

The Doctor swallowed and nodded as best he could with the Master's fingers tangling in his hair.

"Now," the Master smiled again, his entire demeanor changing as he leaned against the desk and twirled the screwdriver between his fingers. "Were to start? There's just so much we've got to cover and I've got a busy morning ahead of me. Ruler of Earth and all…"

The Doctor stared at him, remaining silent this time, and waited for him to get to the point. He wanted something, clearly, but the Doctor wasn't sure exactly what just yet, so he sat there quietly and hoped Martha was alright wherever she was down on the Earth. He hoped Spencer and Jack and the Jones family weren't being harmed wherever the Master had locked them up on the ship.

"I know!" the Master suddenly stopped spinning the screwdriver and grinned brightly at the Doctor as he angled himself to face him properly, eyes dancing. "How about we start with Miss Martha Jones. Didn't seem like much," he said, "But she did manage to get away. Stupid, really, I'll get her back."

The Doctor couldn't help but smile a bit. Martha was smart, resourceful and had been travelling with him for quite some time. She knew how to keep herself fairly well widen. And she still had her TARDIS key.

"Whatever plan you've entrusted to her, Doctor, it isn't going to work," the Master continued, idly studying the screwdriver as if pondering his next move.

For a moment, the Doctor blanched. So he knew there was a plan. At least he didn't know _what _the plan was. And he never would, if the Doctor had his way. As of that moment, only two people knew what the "plan" was. Martha and him.

Suddenly, the Master was right in his face, eyes inches away from him, glittering dangerously. "So tell, me, _Doctor_, what is your great plan? How are you going to defeat me?"

The Doctor didn't answer, didn't move and didn't even breathe until the Master slowly straightened and smoothed out his suit, eyeing his captive with narrowed eyes. "Do I need to go over the rules again, Doctor?" he asked, fingering the screwdriver with a manic look on his face.

Slowly, the Doctor spoke. "There… isn't a plan,"

The Master deflated, shoulders slumping, head falling, shaking his head like a disappointed parent as he tutted under his breath. As he looked up again he looked truly remorseful, but there was a spark in his eyes that sent a strange thrill of fear down the Doctor's spine.

"Oh, Doctor," he sighed, "Surely you can lie better than that?"

Another blast from the screwdriver sent the Doctor writhing in his seat, screams tearing themselves from his throat. It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, but it felt like hours anyway, before the Master mercifully lowered the weapon and fixed his glittering eyes on the other Time Lord.

He leaned down close and put his hand against his ear mockingly, "Now, what was that? The plan?"

The Doctor's breathing was ragged now and bolts of pain shot through his entire body, but he shook his head slowly, "There is no plan," he insisted.

The Master sighed and pouted, "Alright, fine, fine," he said, "I didn't want to do this, but you're just so darn stubborn. How about… we ask your new little pet. What was his name? Spencer, that one!"

The Doctor sat up in his seat, eyeing the Master in horror now, shaking his head pleadingly. He could hardly get words past his throat and the croaked "No," sounded pathetic even to his own ears. But it was too late, the Master just sighed and shook his head sadly before sending a guard to get Reid from the cells.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

NCIS headquarters had been barricaded in, steel doors lock, all agents inside armed. Almost all of them had fled to the building once the Toclafane descended. There weren't many inside who'd managed to escape uninjured and about half the department seemed to be missing. Some part of Gibbs hoped that it was because they had found somewhere else to hide, rather than because they were dead, but he knew there was no way they'd all survived.

He wasn't a normally "emotional" man and his face still wore that half-angry, half-stone expression that everyone knew and had come to expect, but when he spotted Abby, Tony and McGee in the bullpen near his desk, relief made him want to grin.

They all looked a bit worse for the wear, especially Tony who was in a t-shirt and loose jeans and had several bandages wrapped around his arm and a large one on his face. McGee looked fairly uninjured at first, until Gibbs noticed he was sitting with one leg propped against a chair at an odd and sickening ankle.

Abby was shaken and paler than usual, but as far as Gibbs could tell not bleeding. Ducky and Ziva were nowhere in sight and he sped past several agents to get to his team.

"What the hell happened out there?" he demanded, eyes checking over Abby as he got closer. Definitely not bleeding and apparently uninjured.

"It was those Toclafane alien things, Gibbs!" she spoke up immediately, "Weren't you watching the news? Saxon took out President Winters with them and then sent them on the rest of us!"

"It was hell out there, Boss," Tony said, wincing and shifting his shoulders a bit, "Those things just… slaughtered everyone. We aren't even sure who else is gone."

Gibbs didn't respond for a moment, looking around with narrow eyes, "Where's Ducky and Ziva? They been in yet?"

"Ducky's in the morgue," McGee said, "Fixing up everyone he can… He was one of the first to get here when they attacked…" he hesitated and glanced at Tony and Abby.

"He's… pretty upset," Abby said quietly, "He was watching with his mom when they attacked… She didn't…" Abby couldn't finish the sentence, but she didn't really need to finish it, Gibbs knew what she was going to say.

"We haven't seen Ziva," Tony added quietly. "Tried calling her, but she hasn't answered." He eyed the elevators anxiously.

Gibbs nodded, "She can handle herself out there," he said stiffly, not willing acknowledge that she might not be alive. He wasn't going to lose another member of his team. Not so soon after Kate. Not ever, if he could help it.

"I'm going to see Ducky," he said, "You let me know when Ziva shows up."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Hotch was curled up on the couch watching the news coverage with Hailey when it happened. Jack was asleep in their bedroom and they had the volume low so they wouldn't wake up, but the screams still pierced through them. The second the Toclafane broke through their windows, Hotch grabbed his gun and shoved Hailey to the room, "Take Jack and get out of here!" he ordered. "Get to the BAU."

Hailey only hesitated a second, "Aaron, I'm not leaving you here…" her voice shook with fear and then she screamed when the blades came out and Hotch back up, persistently pushing her toward the bedroom. She went without question this time, praying her husband could hold them off and snatching her small son and holding him tight against her chest. She could feel Jack waking up, feel his arms instinctively wrap around her neck and she pushed his head against her chest, not wanting him to see any of this.

"Aaron," she darted out of the bedroom and jerked at the sound of the gunfire, covering Jack's ears. It didn't do much good, Jack was fully away now and the noise had terrified him. He was screaming and crying in her arms.

Hotch didn't waste more bullets when the first three did nothing to the Toclafane. He shoved the gun into his belt and threw the coffee table at them, taking Hailey by the arm and pushing her out ahead of him.

"Run!" he half yelled, shaking as he snatched the keys from the door. They were right behind them now and he practically threw Hailey out the door with Jack before turning back and snatching the nearest thing he could find – which turned out to be a vase – and throwing it at the Toclafane. It shattered, but slowed them down for an instant and he slammed the front door shut, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Hailey getting Jack into the car.

"We don't have time to buckle him in," he ordered, "Get in and hold him!"

The Toclafane were buzzing again and Hotch jumped into the driver's seat, jamming the key into the ignition and hissing as he slammed his door shut and turned to help Hailey. The window shattered and Hailey screamed as a blade cut right across her arm.

"Shut the door! Hurry!"

The blinking metal balls were dancing around the yard now, knives spinning and glimmering. Hotch snatched his discarded briefcase from the passenger seat and slammed into the Toclafane, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard Hailey's door close and pressed the gas pedal as hard as he could.

They were several miles down the road, Jack still crying in the back seat with Hailey, before Hotch even slowed down. His heart was pumping too fast, his mind was racing and his hands were shaking but he hadn't seen another Toclafane since they left the yard. Apparently the ones that had attacked them hadn't followed.

Taking several gulps of air to calm down he glanced in the rearview mirror, squinting to see his wife and son.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice gruff and stiff.

No answer. Jack's crying went on.

"…Hailey?" his foot went completely off the gas and he craned his next to see them. It was dark, but she was leaning back against the seat and… the blood. Her arm was bleeding badly, but that wasn't right. Jack was next to her in the seat, screaming and Hailey wasn't holding him.

Dread pooled in his stomach as the SUV slowed to a stop.

"Hailey…? Hailey, talk to me? HAILEY!"

He ignored Jack's screaming and risked getting out of the car to yank open the back door and Hailey's limp body tumbled out, eyes still open, blood staining her entire torso, a horrible gash in her throat.

He didn't make a sound, didn't scream, didn't cry. He just stared at her for what felt like forever, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Unconsciously his arms went around her bloodied corpse and he hugged her to his chest and Jack's cries went unanswered still as his father finally let out a sob and his knees buckled under him.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Sherlock just stared at Martha for a long second, scrutinizing her before finally concluding, "You're not a terrorist."

Martha fought the urge to have a fit. She'd had a long, stressful day, the world was ending and she had no idea how she was supposed to fix it, but she would. She really didn't have time to deal with this.

"Of course I'm not a bloody terrorist!" she snapped, "Answer the question!"

Sherlock sighed, "I was in your mother's house attempting to find evidence as to exactly what Harold Saxon wants with your family. As far as I can tell, you have an average, boring family that should be of no interest to a man like Saxon."

Martha took a deep breath, studying the man before her carefully, "…Why would you even care?"

"I don't 'care'," he said, sounding annoyed. "I was simply intrigued."

Martha almost laughed and shook her head, "So it was just a puzzle to you?"

"Yes. And you've asked your questions, now, I have some questions of my own."

Martha frowned, "Hold on -!"

"Your family is unremarkable, but you are apparently not. Where did you acquire a Vortex Manipulator?" he asked, eyeing the leather strap she was still clutching in her hands.

"A wh-?" Martha blinked, frowning, "How do you what this is?" She tightened her grip on the device and frowned. It felt so strange to wear it, and besides, it was much easier to read the buttons this way. She could only be thankful that they were in English and not some alien language. Though she did wonder if that was thanks to the TARDIS. Maybe, even in the poor shape she was in, she could still get inside her head. The Doctor said she translated languages written and spoken and Martha could feel the reassuring weight of the key around her neck so maybe…

Sherlock ignored her question, frowning, "Do you work for Torchwood?"

"What? No, how do you even -?"

"Do you know a Captain Harkness?"

Martha froze, eyes wide and for a moment, she wished she had a weapon with her. She knew the Doctor might not approve of that thought, but right now, where she was, the world was one large battle field and she didn't know who to trust.

"How do you know about Jack?"

Sherlock's eyes lit up, "So you _do _know him! Now things are starting to make sense."

Martha glared at him, "Well I wish you'd enlighten me," she snapped, "Because I have no idea what you're on about, Mr.… What was it?"

"Holmes," Sherlock said, "Sherlock Holmes."

Martha huffed and crossed her arms, "Well, Mr. Holmes, start talking. I think you've got more explaining to do than I do."

Sherlock quirked a brow and glanced up at the sky, still darkened by the Toclafane, though, it seemed, luckily, that they had yet to spot the two of them standing there talking. He nodded toward the Vortex Manipulator, "Do you know how to work that properly?"

She frowned and lightly ran her fingers over the buttons, "Sort of trial and error," she admitted, "It's a bit crammed together on the keypad, but I typed in my mum's address and pressed the button and there I was…"

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully, "May I…?"

Martha snorted and clutched it tighter, "Yeah, right,"

He sighed, "Fine. Type in the address I give you. There's someone you should probably see…"

She raised a brow and hesitated before typing the address in slowly, "Grab on to my wrist," she said, holding her arm out and not looking at him as she finished and hoped to God she had done it right. "Who is it we're going to see?"

Sherlock made a sour face, "My brother,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Jane's arms instinctively covered his face as the glass shattered above him and he felt hundreds of little pinpricks on his exposed skin as the sharps bit into him, but luckily there didn't seem to be any really bad cuts.

He lay there for a moment, still and quiet and listening to the sound of the Toclafane and Lisbon shooting at them uselessly. Then he sat up, sending glass tinkling to the ground and also earning himself a few more minor cuts. No big deal, really. Pain he could handle.

It seemed that they hadn't noticed him yet, but he saw Lisbon's look of relief when he moved. He stood slowly, careful. He didn't know if the things could hear that well or not, but for the moment they seemed concerned with Lisbon, who was backing up and into the hall, giving him a desperate "Help me!" look.

He didn't know what to do. He wasn't a fighter. He'd never even fired a gun before. Hated weapons, hated physical confrontation – which was slightly ironic given the number of times people had punched him in the face just for speaking – and was clearly out of his element here.

Except for the cleaning staff, Lisbon and Jane were alone in the building, which was a good thin, Jane supposed. Less people here to kill. Everyone else had gone home early, even Minelli. Most of them to watch the coverage of the meeting between the Toclafane and humanity. Even if Jane had owned a television, he couldn't say he'd have been bothered enough to watch, but now he was wishing that he had been watching. Maybe he'd know of some way to fight these things then.

Lisbon growled in frustration, backing up past the interrogation rooms already and her clip was empty.

"Damn it," she swore and threw the gun aside, looking around for anything she could use as a weapon and giving Jane another desperate look. "Now would be nice…" she muttered through clenched teeth as the Toclafane got closer.

Jane's eyes lit on the elevators at the end of the hall and a bright grin settled onto his face. Swerving and ducking around the balls, who only noticed him once he ran in front of them, he grabbed Lisbon's arm and tugged her down the hall.

"What are we doing?"

"Shh! I have a plan!"

"Care to share?"

"No time! Move! Elevators!"

He jammed his hand against the down button and mumbled impatiently as the doors slid open and the Toclafane came with a few feet of them. Lisbon started to step inside, but Jane held her back, kept the doors open and pressed the basement button before leaning back out and keeping one hand against the doors.

"Jane, what –"

"Hold on…"

The Toclafane were way too close now and Lisbon was not liking the look of those knives as they spun at a deadly speed.

"Jane –"

"Wait,"

The buzzing was getting louder and they were right on top of them then.

"Now!"

Lisbon wanted to ask "Now what?" but she didn't get a chance. Jane tugged her to ground and jumped in the elevator long enough to the Toclafane to follow, hit the button to close the doors and rolled out, still tugging Lisbon with him.

She leaned against the door as they slid closed, hearing the angry metal-on-metal whine as the Toclafane shredded into the elevator, but thankfully it was already in motion, taking them down to the basement. She closed her eyes and shook her head, giving the blond man an annoyed glare as he helped her to her feet.

"Let's not ever do that again," she said.

"Might have to," Jane said. "I doubt those were the only ones out there…"

Lisbon felt sick and nodded reluctantly, "Probably not," she agreed. "We need to get some help out here. I doubt we can just trap them all in elevators."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Jason Gideon had seen a lot of things in his time, especially working with the BAU. He'd thought he had seen pretty everything until Harold Saxon announced that he'd had contacts with aliens. Just a couple of years ago, that would have sounded crazier than it did. But alien conspiracy theorists were everywhere these days, getting louder and louder and their proof getting harder and harder to ignore.

In truth, Gideon wasn't sure where he stood in the extraterrestrial debate. He listened to the team go back and forth, Reid and JJ the most avid supporters, Garcia and Prentiss both agreeing that it was interesting to consider, but without solid proof both were still uncertain, though they both wanted to believe and found themselves arguing more with Reid and JJ than against. Morgan the most obvious skeptic, demanding concrete evidence, coming up with "logical" alternate theories and shaking his head at his friends' beliefs.

Hotch was quiet most of the time as well, but had on more than one occasion stated that the proof was getting a bit hard to deny and the idea of alien life wasn't exactly sounding as farfetched as it once had. Even Morgan had to agree with Hotch there; strange things were happening and really, what was the odds of humanity being the only intelligent life form out there?

Still, Gideon was more inclined to believe that whatever Harold Saxon's Toclafane were, they probably weren't aliens, just another vehicle for another politician to gain support and a name for himself.

He wasn't surprised when President Winters intervened, wasn't surprised when UNIT took over the operation, and he wasn't surprised that the live coverage was still going to be aired. But sitting in his apartment alone, watching it all happen on television, he _was _surprised when Saxon used the Toclafane to kill Winters. He watched in frozen shock and for a moment thought he was seeing things when he caught a glimpse of the familiar face of Spencer Reid on the screen.

And then he heard the glass shatter in his kitchen. Then he heard the faint buzzing and whirring of the mechanical blade and his hand went for his gun. He could hear screams coming from apartments near him, but his brain had already gone into work-mode and he blocked them out.

He emptied his gun at the things and when that didn't work, he attacked with whatever he could, but they were fast, they were small and they had him back into a corner.

He never stood a chance, not really. But he went down fighting, his pained screams mingling with those of his neighbors and the millions more who were dying out there. Bloody and dying, throat so torn he couldn't scream anymore, Gideon's eyes fixed on the still glowing television screen and he caught another glimpse of Reid's face and something in him forgot to be concerned about himself and he prayed that the younger man was alright.

He barely heard the Toclafane leave, blood pounding in his ears, he certainly didn't see them coming. His breathing slowly, he head spun and the world dimmed around him, but he died with one certainty in his mind. The world wasn't going to take this lying down. They would fight back.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It took them several hours of driving to get to the Roadhouse, the pitch black sky turning a faint grey and then pink before they pulled into the parking lot of the old bar. Sam and Dean were used to sharing the road with no one, but the highways had been nearly deserted on their drive and every single radio station was replaying the same goddamn message, over and over. Harold Saxon had killed the president, Harold Saxon had control over the Toclafane, Harold Saxon was the "Lord and Master" and any resistance would be punished harshly.

Eventually, Dean had gotten fed up and turned the radio off, leaving the two of them to ride in silence as they let things sink in.

They were lucky enough not to run into any more of those Toclafane, at least. But then, according to the radio, after the initial wave of attacks that had wiped out a sizable chunk of the population, they had rescinded back to the sky. Apparently, "The Master" was going to address every nation of the world, one by one. Starting with the UK and moving throughout Europe. At least that gave them more time to think.

They had never seen so many beat up cars and trucks and vans outside of the Roadhouse before. At least a dozen of them and they all had to be hunters because who else could they be? Dean winced a bit when he spotted Gordon Walker's truck, but not even Gordon mattered at the moment. They climbed out of the Impala, grabbed their guns and headed inside, trying not to pay attention to the busted in windows and the doors that barely hung on to the hinges.

Dean was almost immediately knocked over by a small blond blur and had to stop for a moment to realize who it was.

"Jo?"

"I thought you were out hunting on your own?" Sam frowned curiously at the younger girl as she stepped back. She looked like Hell. She was dirty and her hands were cut up and there were several fresh cuts along her arms and one of her face and her shirt was splattered with red blood, most of which they were willing to bet wasn't her own.

"I was," she said, "I was in the middle of taking down a Ghoul when those… those Toclafane things show up and the next thing I know, the whole town's being attacked. I was dodging them all night and then, right around dawn, they all just took off. Have you seen them yet?"

"No, not in person," Dean said, "They attacked our motel though. No one made it out. We hightailed here as soon as we got out of there."

Jo nodded, "Ash has been waiting for you two," she said.

"Couldn't he just call?"

"No, that reminds me… Give me your phones," Jo held out her hands and Sam and Dean cautiously passed their cell phones over to her. She stared at them for a moment and then dropped them on the ground, stomping on them with all her might, sending bits of plastic zipping across the ground.

"What the hell -!"

"Archangel," Jo said, "Saxon's got control of it. Ash'll explain. This way."

She led them through the bar where Sam and Dean counted fifteen hunters, most of whom they had never met. Near the back corner was a tall black man, shotgun resting in front of him, bleeding from his head. They quickly looked away and sped up, not wanting to deal with Gordon at the moment.

The door to Ash's room was open and they entered cautiously, not surprised at the mess of beer cans that had been shoved to one side on the floor or the massive amounts of broken laptops, cell phones, desk top computers and other things that were scattered over a large, makeshift workbench near the back.

What did surprise them, however, was the figure resting on the bed, half propped up and bleeding badly from her gut.

"Ellen?"

"Hey boys," her smile was a bit weak but she shifted forward on the bed, one arm kept wrapped around her torso, "Finally made it, I see."

"We were… a little out of the way. What the hell happened to you?" Dean demanded, his eyes fixed on the blood shirt.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Ellen assured them, "Jo bandaged me up. Those damn Toclafane did a number on the place. Six hunters and a family of three were killed before they left." Her face was hard and she shook her head, "Guns don't work, knives don't work, but I'll tell ya we did figure out…"

"What?"

"You send enough current through the bastards and they drop like flies,"

"How did you manage to figure that out?" Sam asked, frowning.

"One of 'em tore open the wall behind the bar, with the wiring for the phones. Stuck its shiny little blade in there and jolted itself to death. Ash is working on getting us something that'll kill the things."

She glanced over at the other man, who was fiddling with something on the bench. He spun around, finally and didn't even offer them a grin; his face was cut up and his eyes were heavy, "Saxon's got Archangel in his pocket," Ash said, "As long as he controls it, he can track us, spy on us… anything he wants, so no cell phones." He tossed them a pair of hand held radios.

"Use these. I'm working on hacking into the system and figuring out a way around Archangel, but it'll take time," he pulled out the makeshift laptop they'd seen the last time they were there.

"As far as we can tell, Saxon can hold the whole world hostage and there's nothing we can do about it," Jo said, frowning.

Dean stared down at the radio in his hands, a determined look glinting in his eyes. He looked back up and shook his head. "There is something we can do," he said, "We can fight back."

* * *

**~DW/CM~**

* * *

**A/N: **First, I'll apologize for the lack of Torchwood this chapter. They're getting a longer scene in chapter eight to make up for it though, so forgive me.

Second, I made a couple of minor changes to chapter 6. Namely, Gideon didn't go to his cabin and I altered a line. Nothing too important really, just thought I'd mention that.

Anyway, thank you all for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Please let me know! More to come soon! And let me know your thoughts on the Crowley, Gabriel and Cas. I know how I would include Crowley, in fact I have a very distinct idea and I have a vague idea about Gabriel (plus, I would love for Martha to meet Gabriel). Cas is the only one I'm uncertain of how to approach, but I'll let you know what I decide on them when I decide it.

Thanks for the support and please review!


	8. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 3

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **Many, many thanks to all the reviewers! You guys are amazing and I love you for it! Sorry for the delay in updating, as I said last chapter, the new semester recently started back and that sucks away much of the free time I usually devote to writing fanfiction. Sorry!

**News on the Crowley/Castiel/Gabriel Front: **Still debating about Gabriel and almost sure I'll include Crowley now. And after a discussion with a friend (that may have involved bodily threats to my poor Sammy – and the horrible threat of _cutting Sam's hair_) who gave me numerous ideas, I have decided that Castiel will be included and there are other characters from other fandoms to watch out for as well. I've got a much more solid idea of how to include Cas and probably a few other angels in his garrison.

Now, back to the story!

Please review!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

The sensation of being teleported was never going to be a comfortable one, Martha decided. She certainly preferred the TARDIS over Jack's vortex manipulator. She felt Sherlock's hand slip from her sleeve and blinked the pain away from between her eyes, looking around her and frowning. They were inside a large, surprisingly undamaged home. Odd. The Toclafane must not have come through here then. She wasn't sure if that was a comforting thought or not.

"_This_… is where your brother lives?" Martha raised a brow, "Blimey, what does he do?"

"He runs the British government," Sherlock said, sounding once again vaguely annoyed. "At least he _did_ before our very interesting Mr. Saxon took charge. Now it appears someone else is calling the shots. Saxon's managed to keep secrets from even Mycroft, that means trouble."

"He… ran… the government?" Martha raised a brow, "That's not possible."

Sherlock smirked, "You don't know Mycroft. This way!"

He didn't wait for her to respond, turning and heading toward a large staircase. Martha frowned, eyeing the place in wonder. It was huge and full of obviously expensive art work and statues. Though she couldn't help feeling a bit sad, looking around the place. Maybe it was the lack of photographs on the walls or the distinctly museum-like feel she got from the house. In any case, it felt nothing like what she thought a home should.

Sherlock paused outside of an ornate door and knocked three times in rapid succession, a voice calling from the other side promptly telling them to enter. He pushed the door open and entered, Martha right on his heels.

"Well, Sherlock, that was fast. I must admit, I didn't expect you to –" Mycroft's eyes widened, "Martha Jones…"

"Yes, well, I ran into a bit of trouble at the Jones home. No doubt you've heard about it,"

"You mean the assassination?" Mycroft raised a brow, "Or the Toclafane attacks?"

"You don't seem too broken up about it," Martha said, frowning at the other man. His face was void of emotion, calm and set. The way his eyes seemed to look right through her unsettled her even more than his brother's piercing stare did.

"Unfortunately, there is very little I can do about the attacks without knowing exactly what's going on. I've contacted UNIT and they're fighting back to the best of their ability, but it appears that our Mr. Saxon has decided to stage a coup, as it were. Declaring himself 'Master of All'. So, what I'm most interested in at the moment, Miss Jones, is why he seems so interested in you."

"Well…" Martha frowned, chewing her lip, unsure of how much to trust this man with. He gave her the creeps, honestly.

"She's connected with Torchwood, Mycroft," Sherlock said, "She has a Vortex Manipulator and knows Captain Harkness."

Mycroft's eyes lit up, "Ah, that explains it then. Tell me, Miss Jones, what do you know about Torchwood?"

"Hold on a moment," Martha scowled, "Both of you! Look, it's a complicated story, but I'll tell it, alright? But first I want some answers myself. Starting with who the hell you are and how the hell you know about Torchwood in the first place. And my family. And those… Toclafane things."

Mycroft sighed, "Very well, have a seat," he motioned to the chairs in front of his desk and leaned back, "To start off, I doubt I know more about the Toclafane than you do. The Prime Minster was very quiet about his alien guests. I don't believe anyone other than his wife knew what they were precisely. As for your family, that is what I want you to explain. They were taken as political prisoners and terrorists, which is obviously not true. Torchwood? My knowledge is again limited. They're clandestine in the worst way, but their technology and habits have become more public of late. As evidenced by my brother's annoying interest in them ever since they interfered in a case of his."

Martha frowned and turned to look at Sherlock, who was apparently angry about Torchwood's interference if the look on his face was anything to go by.

"Which is where he met Captain Jack Harkness. I myself haven't had the privilege. Now, your turn. Why is Saxon interested in your family? What are your connections to Harkness and Torchwood? How is that you find yourself travelling with an FBI agent whom I know for a fact is at this very moment in Virginia?"

Martha took a breath, "Well, you're asking a lot of questions and not giving me many answers," she said, "To start with, this'll be complicated and… well, it might sound a bit mad, but it's all true, alright? This all started when I met the Doctor –"

"Wait," Mycroft leaned forward, eyes wide, "The Doctor? You've met The Doctor?"

"Yeah…? Why? D'you know him?"

"We met briefly," Mycroft said, "A small matter of Slitheen in Downing Street a few years ago."

"So you know then," Martha leaned forward, "About the TARDIS, about aliens and things?"

"I know only what I've seen in government reports," Mycroft admitted, "And whatever UNIT knows. Where is the Doctor?"

"On the _Valiant_," Martha said, "With the Master."

Mycroft raised a brow, picking up a photograph of the Doctor, "This man is the Doctor?"

"Yeah," Martha nodded, "That's him."

"He's regenerated then. Of course! Now that makes sense,"

"Regeneration?" Sherlock quirked a brow interestedly and Martha sighed.

"Hold on, stop. I'll explain it. Let me start from the beginning…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It took Hotch too many long minutes to force himself up, gingerly keeping hold of Hailey's limp body. The sound of Jack's crying had died down, a stifled whimper of a whine now and that was the only thing that made Hotch move. Lifting Hailey in his arms he forced himself not to look at the deep, horrible gash in her throat and slipped her out of the SUV.

He carried her to the side of the road and choked a bit, staring down at her as he laid her on the ground. He wanted to give her a proper burial, but he had no idea when those Toclafane would return or even exactly what was going on and he wasn't willing to drive with her in the car; the very thought made him sick. So he straightened her awkward limbs and fought back another moan as he reached over her and closed her eyes.

Jack's crying broke the silence of the night and after a long, painful moment, he forced himself back to his feet. Jack needed him right now, he couldn't break down. Making his way back to the SUV, he leaned into the backseat, wincing at the sight of blood and lifting his crying son into his arms. There was blood coating the blanket Hailey had wrapped him in and Hotch tossed the blanket aside viciously, checking him over for any injuries.

He was fine, thank God, but still crying.

"Shh," he hugged the toddler to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, "It's okay, Jack, we'll be okay…"

He didn't feel okay, though, and his movements were mechanical as he tucked his son into the car seat and strapped him in securely. He spared one more broken glance for Hailey's body by the road and climbed into the driver's seat once more. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he did know where he could get some answers.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Gibbs stepped through the doors to the morgue, glad to see that there weren't many people down there any longer – Ducky apparently patched up most of them already. When he entered the cold room he fought back a shiver at the air and the sight of bloody bandages that normally wouldn't have bothered him at all. He'd seen worse in war, but it was such a strange thing to see this much chaos _here_ and _now_.

A smirk still managed to light his face when he saw who Ducky was working on and relief once again flooded him.

"Looks like we both got a bit banged up out there, huh, Jen?"

The redheaded director turned sad eyes on him while Ducky stitched closed a particularly deep cut on her left arm. "Jethro," she greeted him, "How are things looking out there?"

"Like Hell," he answered grimly, "How have things been down here, Duck?"

Ducky's eyes flitted to Gibbs' face for a moment before turning back to his work and Gibbs felt a weird sense of _wrong _at Ducky's lack of usual friendly greeting and the hollowness in his eyes looked so out of place.

"Not good," the doctor said, "I've seen more dead bodies and casualties tonight than I have in the past month, Jethro. Those Toclafane ripped them to pieces, slicing into every bit of flesh they can get their knives into."

"I noticed," Gibbs said, suddenly recalling his own injury and holding out his bloody hand, "Think you can fix me up?"

"What the hell did you do?" Director Shepard turned from the table she was on to get a better look at his wound, "Try to rip the blade off one?"

"Bastards caught me by surprise," Gibbs said, wincing when Ducky moved around to see the gash and probed it with gloved fingers.

"You're lucky they didn't reach the bone, Gibbs," he said, shaking his head, "That hand will be out of commission for a while…"

"Perfect," he muttered, "Either of you heard from Ziva?"

"No," Jenny sighed, shaking her head, "I've tried her cell phone, but she's not answering. Most people aren't answering, half the agency's unaccounted for and the way things are outside… I don't know that we're going to hear from Ziva anytime soon."

"She's a big girl," Gibbs said, "She can handle this."

Jenny smiled a bit, "I don't doubt that for a second," she agreed. "She'll be here as soon as she can. We've got bigger problems to deal with though."

"Bigger how?"

"You recognized the Toclafane right?"

"Yeah, those metal things, right? Abby said something about the president –"

"Saxon killed him. Our systems are locked out; we can't access any of our files, our codes, nothing. Some of our techs are working on it. They said it's Archangel, but they don't know how it's happening. We can't get in contact with the White House, Gibbs."

"So we're flying blind," Gibbs muttered, grimacing as Ducky worked on his hand.

"Not exactly," Ducky said, shaking his head, "Saxon's going to address the country today, according to the last news update."

"So what? The son of a bitch just kills the president, sends his metal monsters down on us and expects us not to fight back?"

Jenny sighed, "Gibbs, we don't have an official death count yet, but early reports are in the millions. At least a tenth of the entire world population. And that was in a matter of hours. We have no way of fighting those things."

"We'll find a way!"

"We're looking," she assured him, "But before we can –"

"Ducky!" she was suddenly cut off by Tony's urgent voice as he rushed into the doors with a ragged looking woman hanging off his shoulder, covered in blood. It took Gibbs a moment to actually register that it was Ziva and then he felt the blood drain from his face, though he refused to show the fear he was feeling.

Ducky froze over Gibbs' hand and his eyes widened at the sight of the young woman, "Good Lord, Ziva! Get her over here, on the table, quickly!" he cleared away one of the morgue tables and Tony half-dragged Ziva's limp form over.

"She was barely conscious when she got in," Tony's voice cracked, "Still bleeding. I can't tell where… She wouldn't… I…" he didn't seem to be able to get the words our properly but Ducky understood anyway and helped him lift her onto the table while Gibbs and Jenny moved closer, both staring in shock at her.

Her hands and arms were littered with cuts, but the worst wound was in her chest, a deep, awful gash that was pulsing blood. Her eyes were half-lidded, rolling around in her head for a moment as her hands flailed and latched onto Ducky insistently.

"Du…Ducky…" she managed to rasp, "Ribs… broken… Think…" she swallowed gasping for air, "Punctured… lung…"

"Shh, shh," Ducky shook his head, looking down at her in horror, "Don't talk, Ziva. I'll fix you, alright, dear? Just lie back… stay still…"

He swallowed roughly, looking down at her and glanced up at Gibbs, Tony and Jenny who were all thinking the same thing: how was Ducky going to fix something this severe with what little equipment they had?

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Ugh…" Rigsby winced as he shoved himself up, bits of plaster and glass tinkling off his back as he looked around the destroyed bar. Sliding back onto his heels, he put a hand to his head, pulling it away and staring at the sticky red blood that now coated his fingers.

"Hell…" he grumbled and grimaced, everything was aching. He couldn't remember much of what had happened. He and Cho had gone out for drinks and ended up watching the news coverage of the Toclafane meeting with a few other CBI agents when the bar announced that they were staying open for them to watch.

He clutched his chest, sure he had at least one broken rib. Something must've hit him in the head, though at this point he wasn't sure what. He didn't even really know what had happened. An earthquake maybe? He was only getting flashes… People screaming, guns going off…. Wait, guns.

His hand went to his side, feeling for his gun and frowning when he realized it was gone. His eyes searched the immediate area for his gun, but the rubble hid nearly everything. What the hell happened? His eyes were drawn to a flickering television screen and he squinted at it. It was partially hanging from its mount on the wall, but he could see images of people screaming, running from… from…

Crap.

Blinking, he remembered. The Toclafane. He grunted and shoved himself to his feet, ignoring the pain that flared throughout his body. He still couldn't see clearly, but it appeared most of the survivors were gone already and all that were left appeared to be dead bodies. And there was no sign of Cho.

"…Cho?" his voice was rasped and rough and it hurt to talk, but he didn't care, stepping over bodies and searching the mess for any sign of Cho or his gun. "Cho! You still here? CHO?" He raised his voice high he kicked over a broken bar stool. There were faces he recognized and that made him feel a bit sick, seeing them broken and bleeding like that.

So many bodies, it made him queasy. He was nearing the bar's entrance when he tripped over something and fell to his knees, "Damn it," he groaned, pushing himself back up and freezing when he caught sight of the body lying a few yards away from him.

"…Cho?" his voice was tentative as he eased his way toward the prone form, lying face down on the floor. Slowly he reached out and gripped the shorter man's shoulder, tugging him forward a bit and grimacing when he still got no response from him. "Cho? Man, you alright? You hear me?"

Silence.

Pulling himself right up next to his friend, he braced himself and pushed the body over, a surprised, choked breath escaping from his throat when he met the glassy, dead eyes. Cho's tie was lopsided, shirt disheveled and torn, a massive, bloody gash right through his stomach. His face was hardly recognizable, cuts crisscrossing from one side to the other.

"God… Cho…" Rigsby swallowed bile and shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening._

"Hey!" a female voice jerked his head up and he blinked, turning to see a tall redheaded woman standing there. Her hair was tangled down her back, blood dripping down her face from a cut on her head. He stared at her dumbly for a moment, eyes scanning her body and frowning a bit when he saw the gun holstered at her side.

"You okay?"

Her voice was gentle and concerned and he finally managed a nod, throat still too tight to talk. She approached him carefully and put a hand on his shoulder, helping him back to his feet and eyeing Cho's body sympathetically.

"Was he your friend?"

"Yeah…" Rigsby's voice finally worked and he nodded, "…Sorry… Who are you?"

"Grace," she smiled a bit sadly, "Grace Van Pelt."

"Cop?"

She frowned and glanced down at the gun, "Rookie," she admitted, "Just started the Academy two weeks ago."

He snorted and forcefully kept his eyes from travelling back to Cho's body. "Come on," she said, "Hospitals are pretty bad, but there are some EMTs down at the station that can check you out…"

"No," he shook his head, "I gotta… I gotta get to the CBI. My boss was there with a co-worker…"

"You need to see someone," she said, "You're bleeding."

"So are you,"

"I'm fine," she insisted, "Come on. I'll go with you to find your boss after you're checked out, okay?"

Rigsby stared at her wide, innocent eyes and wanted to go with her, but the thought of Lisbon and Jane back at the CBI made his stomach clenched. He had to check on them, make sure they were alright. Lisbon could handle herself well enough, but Jane? He didn't even know how to use a gun and Rigsby wasn't willing to lose another friend. "Sorry, Grace," he shook his head, "I gotta check on Lisbon and Jane first."

She sighed, "Fine. I'll go with you, in case you pass out again at least there'll be someone to lug you to a doctor,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Things at the FBI headquarters were chaotic when Hotch arrived, holding a now sleeping Jack in his arms. There were agents everywhere – many of whom had actually been inside the building when the Toclafane descended. The lobby was full of dead bodies, laid out carefully, but many so mangled it was hard to tell who they were. He recognized a few of them – most of them actually – and it made him a bit sick. He didn't count the bodies, but there must've been at least fifteen or twenty of them.

The BAU was packed, agents separated into groups. Those with more medical training were tending to those who had been injured. The more able bodied agents were carrying the dead downstairs. There were still some bodies lying around where they'd fallen and Hotch averted his eyes quickly, searching the mayhem for his team.

He didn't see any of them and began to worry that none of them had survived at all until a hand on his shoulder spun him around to face Morgan.

"Hotch! Thank God, man, we've been trying to reach you and Gideon for an hour…"

Morgan was covered in blood, eyes shell shocked. There were cuts up and down his arms and a nasty bruise on his face, but Hotch was willing to bet that most of the blood wasn't actually his at all. Hotch didn't get a chance to respond when Jack let out a small cry and twisted in his arms. Morgan's eyes went right to the little boy and then back to Hotch, a pained looked crossing his features when he realized Hailey was nowhere in sight.

"…Is she…?"

"Yes," Hotch's answered was tight and clipped and Morgan nodded stiffly, taking a deep breath.

"The rest of the team's this way," Morgan led him through the throng of people, "Emily and I have been moving the bodies downstairs. Reid's with Garcia; she and some other tech named Kevin are in her office, they're trying to get information on Saxon, figure out what the hell's going on, but we're locked out of the system. She said something about Archangel, but I didn't really follow her…"

Hotch nodded as he listened and then frowned, pausing, "…What's JJ doing?"

Morgan's shoulders tensed and he stared straight ahead, "She didn't make it,"

Hotch felt his stomach bottom out, but forced himself to hold it together. He was supposed to be the leader of this team and they'd already moved into action without him. Garcia and Kevin were working on separate computers, each of them with small, frustrated frowns on their faces.

Hotch was relieved to see that while Garcia's clothes were blood splattered and her hands shaking a bit, she wasn't harmed. He knew that was likely because of Morgan – he would never let anything hurt Garcia if he had any say in it. Reid had a few small cuts and bruises and it looked to Hotch like he might have a broken wrist and there was a nasty look bruise spreading up his other wrist from his thumb.

"Hotch!" Reid looked relieved to see his boss, a tiny trace of a smile touching his face for a moment. He followed Hotch's gaze to his hand and shrugged, "Dislocated my thumb…" he said, hissing a bit when he lifted the hand.

"You should get someone to look at it," the words were spoken calmly and evenly, despite the fact that Hotch felt like he was going to break to pieces inside.

Reid looked down, "There are other people in worse shape. I'll get someone to fix it whenever everyone else is taken care of," he turned to Morgan, frowning, "Nothing from Gideon yet?"

"Not yet, Kid," Morgan sighed, "When it gets light out if those things haven't come back Emily and I'll go check out his apartment. Garcia, Kevin, any luck?"

"No," Garcia's voice shook with anger and grief, "This is one smart, skivvy bastard," she muttered, "I don't know _how _he did it but he's got Archangel completely blocked from anyone. We can't crack it. Yet."

"Hotch!" Emily's voice was behind him as she entered the room, dark eyes going wide. Hotch turned to face her and winced at her appearance. There was a bloody bandage on her left leg, her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was yanked back into a messy ponytail and he was pretty certain a couple of her fingers were broken as well. She took one look at Jack and her eyes dimmed, instantly recognizing the look on his face.

"…Glad you made it here," she said quietly, her voice stiff.

He nodded and looked around, "Is there anything I can be doing?"

"…There are still more bodies to be moved," Prentiss said, "But you should look after Jack, unless… There's an office down the hall where they're watching the kids. Strauss and Agent Anderson are looking after them. There aren't very many…"

Her words trailed off and Hotch nodded, "I'll be right back…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Any word from Bobby?" Dean pulled Jo to the side as they left Ash's room. Ash had explained, in his own Ash-like way, that Saxon, or as he called him, "that snake-oiled, British bastard", had control over the Archangel network that made up most of the world's telecommunications networks in some way or another. Lucky for them, Ash hadn't trusted the guy since he'd began appearing in the news and all of his computers operated as under-the-radar as was physically possible. At least that gave them edge over Saxon and whatever the hell his plan was.

Jo sighed and shook her head, "We've been waiting on a call in," she said, "Ash fixed the phone in the bar; we've been getting heads-up from Hunters all over the country on their way in, but nothing from Bobby yet."

"Damn it," Dean swore and shook his head, "What's the distance on these things?"

Jo frowned, "According to Ash, thirty, forty miles. Fifty tops. Why?"

He sighed and fingered the button on the radio, "Pay phones don't have that Archangel crap, right? Sam and me are gonna hit the road, go check on Bobby and see what's going on."

"Dean, I don't think –"

"He's the only family we got left, Jo," Dean cut her off, shaking his head. "I can't just sit here on my ass knowing he could be lying out there bloody somewhere with no one to help him, alright? We'll be back in a couple of days."

Jo sighed and nodded, "Mom's not gonna like you two going off by yourselves," she said.

"We're big boys," Dean said, "We can handle ourselves out there."

"Fine. Just… be careful, Dean. We don't know if or when those Toclafane are coming back and if you and Sam get caught out there with no backup –"

Dean smiled, "Don't worry," he said, "We'll be fine." He watched Jo head back to Ash's room to check on her mother and sighed heavily, shaking his head and turning to go back to the bar when he almost ran right into Gordon Walker.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath and met Gordon's eyes, planting a cocky smile on his face as the other hunter raised a brow.

"Dean Winchester," he said, a smile twisting his lips. With the blood dripping from his dark face the smile looked sinister and made Dean fight the urge to shiver. Dean thought back to the last time he'd seen Gordon and cringed; the other hunter probably wasn't exactly his biggest fan at the moment.

"Howdy, Gordo," he replied, keeping that grin in place. "See you got yourself out of that room, huh?"

Gordon laughed and again the sound was so damn sinister Dean wanted to bolt immediately, but he was Dean Winchester and he wasn't about to let another hunter scare him away from anything. "Yeah, well, past is the past, right, Gordon? Eye for an eye and all that bullshit?"

His laugh came out a bit nervously and his muscles tensed on instinct. Gordon wanted to beat the shit out of him, he could tell. The only thought running through his mind was _"Payback's a bitch, ain't it, Dean?"_

"Look, you're angry," Dean said, "I bet you wanna kick my ass for what happened, but this is fucking Armageddon or something right now, yeah? So… how 'bout we put this on pause, huh? Sam and me got places to –"

The last words didn't make it out before Gordon's fist connected roughly with Dean's jaw.

"Son of bitch!" Dean swore and moved his jaw around, feeling it pulse for a heartbeat before Gordon swung again. This time Dean reacted faster and caught the arm before it could do more damage, stepping back and slamming a knee into Gordon's stomach.

"Sammy!" he yelled for his brother while Gordon ripped his arm away and dove in for another attack, managing a solid punch to Dean's chest and knocking the air out of his lungs. Catching his breath, Dean backed up and then caught Gordon by surprise, kicking up and slamming a fist into the side of his head.

"Dean!" Sam's voice came from somewhere behind Gordon and suddenly Gordon was yanked backwards and Dean saw his brother holding the thrashing man back. Smirking a bit, Dean took the opportunity to get a few good hits to Gordon's torso before the bulkier man broke free from Sam's grasp. He started to come at them again when another pair of hunters showed up and pulled Dean and Gordon away, another blocking Sam from going after him.

"Hey! Break it up, guys!" one of them men snapped, "We've got bigger problems on our heads right now. Killing each other can wait."

Gordon eyes the two brothers with a venomous look and shook his head, "This isn't over, Winchester. You know that,"

Dean smiled, though it hurt a bit and shrugged, "Bring it on, Gordon, anytime you're ready,"

As the fight broke up and Gordon went back to sulking with his shotgun, Dean spat a glob of blood and shook his head, "Damn, dude needs to learn to let things go… Think he almost dislocated my jaw."

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes as they headed to the parking lot, "Heading to Bobby's?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "Ellen and Jo haven't heard from him yet. Told 'em we'd be a couple of days."

"Good. Give Gordon some time to cool off at least. How 'bout you don't go near him again, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Bastard came after me, Sam. Nothing I could do about it,"

"Except maybe not beat the shit out of him in the first place,"

Dean raised his brows, "Fine. Next time I'll just… let the bastard hurt my little brother and get away with it. How's that sound?"

Sam sighed and shot Dean a look that his older brother had dubbed his bitchface before settling into the Impala. "Shut up,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Fuck," Owen swore under his breath as the rhythmic sounds of the metal got louder. He twisted his hand and slid the clip open, now vehemently regretting wasting bullets on the television and door. "Fuck, fuck, fuck,"

"Very eloquent," Gwen snapped, shooting him a glare as she checked her own gun. Not that it would be useful in any way, but the weapon gave her a small sense of security at least. Owen sent her a sharp, bitter look but didn't respond as the four of them bunched up against the door, pressing themselves into it as much as they possibly could and holding their breath.

"What are going to do?" Tosh's voice shook a bit, but she was holding her gun firmly in her hands as her wide eyes stayed glued to the entrance and the pounding metal footsteps grew ever closer. "Our guns aren't going to work against it. We can't exactly reason with a Cyberman…"

Ianto surprised them all when he lifted his own gun – albeit with slightly trembling hands – and stared into the darkness with determination. "We go down fighting,"

"Great plan," Owen muttered, "Got one where we actually survive?"

"Shut it!" Gwen snapped, "Ianto's right. We might not stand a chance against this thing, but that doesn't mean we have to stand here and die like cowards. We fight until the last breath, got it?"

None of them looked particularly pleased about their "plan", but of course it wasn't as if they really had another option. They were backed into a corner with a Cyberman fast approaching and they had nothing but a few flashlights, some useless guns and determination.

"Besides," Gwen continued, "We don't know how long it's been trapped down here. Maybe… maybe it's been damaged."

Owen almost snorted, but in all honesty was a bit too scared to snort and found himself nodding in agreement with her, if only because he desperately hoped that maybe she was right. Maybe it was broken or defective somehow; maybe they actually did stand a fighting chance against the metal monster.

The sound of metal-pounding-metal suddenly paused and for a moment they allowed themselves to breathe, daring to hope that perhaps it had died, when the sound picked back up, much closer than before and out of the darkness they could make out the hulking, shadowy silhouette of the Cyberman.

Swallowing their fear, the four of them lifted their guns and aimed it at the Cyberman as it approached them, lumbering forward with quick, ridged steps. They closed their eyes and they all said their own forms of silent prayer as they pulled the triggers of the weapons back, ears reverberating with the sounds of the gunshots. Impossibly bright light suddenly seemed to fill the room, flashing against their eyelids as they waited to hear the sound of the bullets clashing against the metal man, but what they heard was… nothing but the roar of the wind, now incredibly loud in their ears.

Slowly, one by one, their eyes crept open and they blinked, staring around at their surroundings. No longer in the computer lab with the Cyberman, but several yards away from the facility, outside in the snow.

"What the…?"

Owen was the first to speak, slowly lowering his weapon and spinning around, eyes growing huge as he realized that this wasn't a dream. "How the hell did we get out here?"

Tosh was on her knees in the snow, shivering a bit and grateful she hadn't removed her gloves once they were inside. She dug through her pack, "Maybe it was some sort of energy spike or teleportation?" she said, glancing up at their questioning looks. "Hold on…"

She pulled a small device out of her bag and held it up, squinting against the swirl of snow on its screen and frowning as the pale green light lit up and she slowly moved around.

"…Anything?" Gwen asked, holstering her gun for now, eyes darting around the barren wasteland of snow.

Tosh frowned, "…Nothing," she said slowly, "I'm not getting any sort of readings at all…"

"So how'd we get from inside to out here?" Ianto asked, looking just as frightened as he had when they'd been facing down the Cyberman. This didn't make any sense at all.

"I don't know,"

"Well," Owen said suddenly, his voice breaking the somber, frightened mood, "Guess we can add that to the big pile of shit we don't know."

Gwen bit back her annoyed remark and shook her head, "Well I know one thing," she said, "If we want answers we aren't going to find them here. Saxon set this up, let's start there. We'll head to London and figure out what the hell is going on."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"So you two really believe the Doctor can save us?" Tish asked, watching Reid and Jack with cautiously hopeful eyes. "That he can beat the Master?"

"If anyone can, it's the Doctor," Jack said confidently, "Don't worry. He'll have a plan. He'll get us out of this."

Reid nodded, "He's always got a plan,"

They all looked up at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall and Reid and Jack frowned, getting to their feet as the guards approached the cells. "Which one of you is Spencer?" one of the guards asked. They were both young men, holding their guns a bit awkwardly and eyeing the prisoners with sadness in their eyes. Reid could tell neither of them wanted to be there, but it wasn't as if they were being given a choice.

"I am," he stepped forward a bit.

"Spencer," Jack hissed, shaking his head.

"Stand back," one of the men kept their gun trained on them while they opened the cell doors. Francine, Clive and Tish huddled together, watching in apprehension as the other guard motioned for Reid to step out.

"Wait, where are you taking him?" Jack demanded.

"Saxon wants to see him,"

"No way," Jack started to step in front of Reid, but the younger man just shook his head.

"I'll be fine," he said. Though he was almost sure he was lying. His stomach twisted at the very thought of being in the same room as the Master, but he knew fighting back at this stage was only going to cause more trouble than it was worth. Jack looked anything but happy as Reid slipped out of the cell and allowed the guard to lead him by the arm down the hall.

"You tell that bastard to bring him back in one piece or so help me, I'll make him wish he were dead!" Jack called after them. Reid felt a small smile on his face at that thought, comforted to know Jack cared so much. Until they were back on the main deck of the ship and the anxious fear set in once more.

They led him through the main conference room where they passed Lucy Saxon, sitting at the conference table, a small frown on her face. She looked… well, just as distant and plastic as she had before, but also like she was thinking about something. Reid couldn't even begin to wonder what was going through her head at the moment and really didn't want to know in any case.

The guards pushed him farther, into what Reid guessed was an office room or another conference room and he felt a bit sick when he spotted the Doctor, barely sitting up straight in his chair, eyes desperately pinned on the Master until the door opened and they shot to Reid.

"Ooh, Spencer!" The Master grinned, "You know, I think I like that name. Has a nice ring to it, don't you agree, Doctor?"

Reid swallowed roughly, fighting to even remain standing as the guard let go of his arm and disappeared out the door.

"Just leave him alone, Master," the Doctor's voice was ragged and pleading and it broke Reid's heart to hear the sound. "He hasn't got anything to do with this."

"Oh," the Master pouted, keeping his eyes on Reid, "Isn't that sweet, the Doctor defended his new little pet. You know, Spencer, I think you might have gotten in over your head a bit with this one. Have a seat, we're going to have a little chat and see if we can loosen the Doctor's lips a bit, shall we?"

Reid hesitated to sit where the Master directed him, but slowly obeyed, a sick sort of terror twisting his gut. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be anywhere near here. He was almost willing to say he'd rather be in that shed with Tobias Hankle than he would here.

"You look nervous," the Master sighed as he perched on the table next to Spencer, twirling his sonic screwdriver between his fingers joyously. "Don't be nervous, Spencer, I won't kill you. Where's the fun there? Once you're dead, no more fun. Well, except that delightful other friend of yours. Jack, wasn't it? Now _there's _a thought. I could kill him again and again and again. Wouldn't that be fun, Doctor?"

"Just leave them… alone," the Doctor begged, "Torture me if you have to, but not them."

The Master grinned, "Again," he said, "Where's the fun in that?"

He reached forward and Reid flinched away as his hands rested on the young man's temples. He braced himself, but knew it wasn't any use anyway. Memories immediately began assaulting his mind. Flashing through his skull and making his chest tight. Hankle. The drugs. Getting shot. His father leaving. They all flashed by, repeating over and over until he almost forgot he had a happy memory at all.

And then it happened: an insane grin and a haunting laugh and the connection broke suddenly, Reid panting, near tears, throat raw from screams he hadn't even realized he'd screamed as the Master stared at him with wide eyes.

"Now… _that _is interesting," his eyes glittered, "Oh, Spencer, you and I are going to have to have a nice long chat soon. You are truly a man… ahead of your time, aren't you?"

"What?" the Doctor leaned forward, well aware of the memories that the Master could have seen inside Reid's head. "What did you see?"

The Master chuckled, "Something I'm sure concerns you greatly,"

Reid locked eyes with the Doctor, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. He felt as if he'd just been hit by a truck, but he couldn't let the Doctor see him in too much pain because he knew he'd only blame himself when it wasn't his fault.

Thankfully, they were interrupted by the appearance of Lucy Saxon.

"Darling," she said, "It's nearly time."

"Well, look at that, " the Master grinned, hopping up and glancing between the two of them, "Why don't you two get a nice chat out? I've got to address my people!"

* * *

**~DW/CM~**

* * *

**A/N: **Woo. *wipes sweat from brow* THAT was a long chapter. But totally worth it, I think. I gave all the fandoms some extra screen time this time!

And I'd like to say that, no, the TW team being magically saved wasn't JUST lame quick fix or loophole. I've got plans for that team, people. And it was also a semi-introduction to a new character. Some of you probably can guess who, but for now I'm not saying.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed and please review!


	9. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter Four

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **First, as always, enormous thanks to everyone who's reading this and THANKS to everyone who's reviewing as well! You're all amazing and I appreciate the support!

Second, sorry this is a little later than usual, in my defense I was working on my other story, "Everything Burns" (which I have been neglecting) and writing the last few chapters of it – which were fairly emotion things – plus side: only an epilogue left on "Everything Burns".

Anyway, thank you all for being patient and I hope you enjoy the chapter! Please, please review!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Martha's story took almost an hour to tell and by the time she'd finished, she was a bit exhausted to say the least. Sherlock kept interrupting her, demanding more details, more information. After a while she was ready to strangle the man for his incessant questioning, but she answered every question he had as best she could. She could tell she was annoying him a bit whenever she would simply huff and say "I don't know!"

Apparently, he expected her to know and was annoyed that she didn't.

"And that's it," she said, relieved to have finally gotten it all out. "Everything that I know, at least."

"So Saxon isn't human?" Mycroft mused, frowning a bit. "But another Time Lord like the Doctor…"

"That's right," Martha nodded, "And if you know much about Time Lords you'll know there isn't a lot we can do about him."

Mycroft sighed heavily, "I also know that you and Sherlock should be going soon. I'm certain Saxon – you said he called himself the Master? – knows how suspicious I am and very likely about the inquiries I've made recently. If you are to do what the Doctor has asked, you're going to need to be alive."

"Wait, are you saying you think you're in danger?" Martha frowned, "You don't seem too worried."

Mycroft's smile scared her, she had to admit. "Why should I be worried, Miss Jones? If your plan succeeds, there is every chance that this will not even be a memory."

"Figured you'd be a bit more skeptical about all this," she frowned.

Mycroft's eerie smile turned into a feral grin, "Well, I've had the pleasure of meeting the Doctor, Miss Jones, and if he believes you capable of accomplishing this, then so do I. I admit, I think he may have put his faith in you unfairly, but I know when I have met someone who surpasses my own intelligence and the Doctor is certainly more intelligent than myself."

She frowned, "I'm plenty capable," she snapped, crossing her arms, "And I _will_ do it."

"Good," Mycroft nodded, "Hold on to that determination, Miss Jones, because you're going to need it. I imagine you've got quite a trial ahead of yourself."

Her confidence wavered a bit. He was right about that. No doubt Saxon was already looking for her and she certainly wasn't equipped to fight the Toclafane, not to mention she barely knew how to work the Vortex Manipulator – other than to press buttons and hope for the best, that is.

"Now," Mycroft stood, "Sherlock, you and Miss Jones should be going. And do not let Saxon monitor your movements, whatever you do."

Sherlock hesitated, which Martha found odd because he'd yet to hesitate since she'd met him.

"You know, Mycroft, I'm not an expert, I'll admit, but I'm sure that Vortex Manipulator would transport three people. Hiding isn't beneath you, is it, brother?"

His voice was a bit… more emotional than it had been any other time she'd heard it and Martha realized, with a surprising jolt, that he was worried about his older brother. It shouldn't have surprised her, but the two of them seemed to so cold and emotionless that the fact that he could even feel worry was a shock. Suddenly, she felt bad because she hadn't even considered helping Mycroft to hide from impending danger.

Mycroft just smiled and shook his head, "I'm afraid not, Sherlock, I have more to attend to here."

Sherlock stood there, staring at his brother with calculating eyes before nodding briskly and turning. He left ahead of Martha, who stood, confused and anxious, at the door. She sighed and followed Sherlock when Mycroft gave her a withering look and raised a brow.

"Sherlock!" she called after the taller man and stumbled down the stairs, nearly crashing into him. "Are you… alright?"

"I'm fine," Sherlock frowned, "Why wouldn't I be?"

She sighed and shook her head, "Fine. Well, then…" she frowned, "You know the plan. Any ideas?"

Sherlock met her eyes with a penetrating gaze, "Our first endeavor should be to find out whether or not any members of Torchwood have survived. They will be your best allies."

"Right," Martha sighed, "Sorry, but I think you're the Torchwood expert so do you know where they are?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and snatched the leather band from her hands, "Cardiff, Wales," he said, "I am not sure of the exact location of their base, but it's a start."

She nodded, watching as he fiddled with the buttons, seeming more adept at it than she was, "How is it you managed to figure out so much about Torchwood anyway? Got a spy inside or something?"

Sherlock gave her a cold look and shook his head, but otherwise didn't respond, "There. That should be right. Hold on," he reached out and grabbed her wrist, surprising her before he punched the button and the two of them were taken away from the house in an instant.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Jack was still sleeping when Hotch reached the room where the children were being taken care of. He immediately spotted Agent Anderson who looked much worse for the wear. He was hobbling a bit as he put on a smile for two little girls, probably about five or six years old, and a boy of about nine, and led them over to a television in the room. Strauss was sitting in a desk chair, her hair a mess, her eyes hollow as she sat there.

She was clearly injured as well, a bandage on her upper left arm and one wrapped tightly around her head as well. She was pale and shaken and looked as if she had been crying recently, but was smiling a bit anyway as she held a little boy in her lap and three other boys lay a few feet away in makeshift bundles, sleeping.

Her eyes caught Hotch immediately and the small boy in his arms.

"Agent Hotchner," she greeted him with a heavy tone, "Your team has been worried about you."

He nodded, shifting his son in his arms for a moment, "I had… trouble getting here," he said, his voice still surprisingly steady but void of real emotion. Strauss understood what he meant and gave him a sympathetic nod.

"So did I," was all she said and Hotch didn't ask for elaboration. He was sure that she'd lost someone – husband or one or all of her children. It didn't matter, because at the moment there really didn't seem to be much that _did _matter except getting through this nightmare.

"I expected you to be with the director," he said, frowning, "Trying to contact Washington…"

"I was," she said, "When I first arrived, but it's difficult to be useful at the moment."

He didn't ask what she meant, obviously she had some other injury that he didn't see. Maybe the head wound was worse than it appeared to, wrapped tightly in its bloodied bandage.

"They sent me to help Agent Anderson with the children…" she hesitated, clearly upset by being downgraded to babysitting, but glad to at least be doing something. Erin Strauss was, Hotch knew, a complicated woman.

"Is your son…"

"He's sleeping," Hotch cut her off, "I should get back. Do you… Need anything?"

"No," she frowned again, glancing down at the boy in her arms, "You can lay Jack in one of the chairs if you want; there aren't many blankets and pillows, but the cushions are soft. We'll keep an eye on him."

Hotch was mildly surprised that she knew Jack's name, but again didn't comment on it. He eased his small son down into one of the chairs and brushed his mop of dirty blond hair away from his face, smiling down at him and kissing him gently. He didn't stay in the room much longer, something about seeing the other children making his heart ache a bit. He hurried left and quickly found Prentiss and Morgan again.

"Saxon's supposed to give some sort speech to the rest of the world," Prentiss said, "Until then, Garcia's coming with zero and we can't get in touch with the other FBI branches or the White House."

"We're completely cut off," Morgan nodded, his tone heavy, "Cell phones are working, but if Saxon has Archangel under his control, we don't know how much he could be monitoring."

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, "What are the director's orders?"

"Wait until we know what Saxon wants," Morgan sighed, "It's about all we can do right now."

He nodded and then hesitated, "Were you watching when it happened?"

"You're gonna ask about Reid, right?" Prentiss asked, glancing over at her boss. "We saw him too. We don't know what it was, but… Reid's freaked about it."

Hotch sighed, dark eyes clouded with confusion, anger and fear. "The Director's right then. We'll just have to wait and see what he wants."

Prentiss glanced out at the bullpen and shook her head, "And move the rest of the bodies down stairs," she added.

Hotch's jaw tightened, "We'll figure this out…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"D'ya think we could move a bit faster?" Owen muttered, hugging himself tightly, "It's _snowing_, in case you haven't noticed."

Gwen gritted her teeth and didn't turn around to face Owen. They'd been trekking through at least two feet of snow for almost half an hour. They were all freezing, bundled up and shivering against the occasional gusts of wind that ate through their layers of clothing. It was about a five mile hike to get back to the air strip where the old plane they'd taken sat. And it had been a much easier hike going to than it was coming back. But of course, it hadn't actually been snowing when they'd taken off the first time.

"Yes, Owen, we've noticed," she snapped. "But unless there's some tech you've got you're not telling us about, we cannot possibly move any faster so quit whining."

"Can't help it," Owen muttered, "I get whiny when I'm uncomfortable and, have I mentioned it's freezing?"

"Yes!" all three of them snapped exasperatedly at him this time. God, Owen was barely tolerable on a regular day, but stick him somewhere in nature and the man was suddenly the most intolerable human being on earth.

Owen made a face and shook his head, "Just putting this out there, Gwen, for future reference: I don't do hiking. Or camping. Or anything that involves extreme weather. Especially snow."

Gwen just rolled her eyes and trudged forward, "Maybe you could move a bit faster if you weren't busy wasting energy talking," she snapped.

"My apologies,"

For a moment, Gwen thought that was Owen's voice, except that it sounded a bit too… dead to be Owen's voice. It was a bit rough, but utterly monotone and her brows furrowed in confusion as the four of them stopped, startled by the new voice.

"Who's there?" Owen and Gwen were already reaching for their guns, but the thick snow and the gusts of wind made visibility a bit hard. As far as she could tell, there was no one there at all.

"I am here," the voice said, "Behind you."

Behind…? Gwen whirled around and pushed herself forward toward Owen, Tosh and Ianto stepping to the side to let her past. And sure enough, there stood a man, fairly tall. At least six feet, startling blue eyes and short brown hair. But the most remarkable thing about him was what he was wearing. A simple suit and a trench coat and _nothing _else. His eyes stared at her unblinkingly and she found herself a bit creeped out by him.

"Wh-Who are you?" Tosh asked and Gwen could've kicked herself. She was supposed to be in charge, she should've asked that question, but her mind went a bit blank staring at the man.

"I am Castiel," the man said, "I am an Angel of the Lord."

"An… Angel?" Owen spoke up now, disbelief coloring his town, a faint smirk twisting his features, "You've got to be fucking kidding me. Angels? Really?"

Castiel's eyes turned to start at Owen, still unblinking and Owen fought back a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Man, but this guy was creepy. "Who do you think saved you from that metal monstrosity?"

"Wait a moment, that was you?" Ianto this time. Gwen still couldn't seem to get her voice to work properly, she just kept staring at the man – Angel…? – and worked her mouth a bit like a fish out of water.

Castiel nodded, a quick, up-down motion, "Yes. And as I was saying, my apologies for the snow. I meant to transport you farther to safety, but I made a minor miscalculation."

Finally, Gwen seemed to be able to speak and she cleared her throat, "Miscalculation? What does that mean? And… why did you save us?"

Castiel once more turned to stare at her and Gwen shuddered a bit, "I should not be here. I don't have much time, the others will notice that I am gone. I must get you to safety quickly,"

"But what about –" she didn't get to finish speaking because Castiel lifted his arms and touched her and Owen on the forehead and in the blink of an eye, they were gone, leaving Castiel with Tosh and Ianto.

"H-How did you –"

"I am an Angel of the Lord," Castiel repeated, cutting Ianto's stuttered question off. A moment later, he glanced upwards warily, "Brace yourselves. It may be a bit… uncomfortable." He said the word as if he wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but didn't really care.

"Wait, where are Gwen and –" Tosh started to ask, but before she could finish, Castiel had already paced his hands on their foreheads and the next thing Ianto and Tosh knew, they were standing in the middle of Cardiff, near the Torchwood hub. In front of them stood Castiel.

Ianto's eyes were huge as he stared around the city. It was in shreds, there were bodies lying in the street, people staring up at the sky in horror, building and windows busted and broken. Cars crashed into one another.

"We're in Cardiff," Tosh's voice was shocked as she turned to stare at the "angel", "But… h-how? What happened?"

"I do not have time to explain. You are safe. For now. Harold Saxon sent a plague of sorts onto the world. Many are dead and many more will die. You four are among the few who may be able to stop him."

"U-Us four?" Ianto spun around, frowning, "But it's just me and Tosh… Where are Gwen and Owen?"

Castiel frowned, eyes scanning the ruined city for a moment before they traveled upward, "They know I have gone," he said simply, "They must have interceded. I must go."

"But-" Before Tosh could ask what he meant, the man was suddenly gone and she blinked, turning to Ianto. "Looks like we're on our own…"

"Not entirely," Ianto pointed out, nodding toward the Hub. "He did tell us where to start."

"Saxon released a …plague, though?" Tosh frowned, "What sort of plague does this?"

"Let's find out," Ianto said, "And find Gwen and Owen. They have to be here somewhere…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It was quite a walk to get to the Statehouse and Van Pelt stopped a few times whenever they spotted any straggling survivors and pointed them in the direction of the police station. Rigsby had to admire the woman's composure. At a time like this, most people would be freaking out and panicking – hell, he felt like panicking a bit. But not Grace, she kept her face settled into a look of compassion and composure and did her best to pretend not to flinch at the gruesomeness of the bodies that they had to step over.

"Got any family out here?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. Grace shook her head and sighed a bit sadly.

"Not anywhere near here, no. My aunt lives up near Oregon," she hesitated, a frown on her face. "Don't even know if they're alive."

Rigsby was almost tempted to put a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder, but didn't. He hardly knew her after all, that might be a bit weird.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Rigsby frowned, not following her question and she smiled a bit, shaking her head.

"Any family out here?"

He blinked, "Mom died a while ago," he said, shrugging, "Just my Dad now…"

She nodded, "Does he live anywhere close by? We could go and check –"

"No," Rigsby frowned, shaking his head and Grace wasn't entirely sure if he was saying that his dad didn't live nearby or that he didn't want to check. "I can find out if he's alive later. CBI first."

"Oh," Grace fell silent again, nodding and wondering what would make Rigsby so against going to check on his own father. She couldn't imagine, and a part of her wanted to urge him to go. If he was alive, now would certainly be the ideal time to work out whatever had happened between them. They might never get another opportunity.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the Statehouse and Rigsby wasn't all that surprised to see numerous cars and other agents heading inside through the gate. Van Pelt followed him in, determined to make sure that he got to his friends before she left him by himself. He'd already nearly stumbled and fallen twice and she kept shooting him worried glances every now and them. He brushed it off, shrugging. He was fine.

One of the elevators was cordoned off and Rigsby frowned at that, but they took the stairs anyway – the other elevator was already packed to bursting and he didn't want to stand around. They reached the floor in quick timing and he let out a relieved sigh when he immediately spotted Jane's mess of curls standing on a table, speaking clearly. He had a few cuts on his face and hands and Rigsby thought he saw glass glittering in his hair, but he looked otherwise fine.

"People, people," Jane was saying in a loud, firm voice. "Please be calm. We have medical personnel set up on the third floor, water bottles and crackers being distributed on the second. Calmly and carefully make your way to wherever you need to be. There are Agents stationed on every floor. Anyone with children, please leave your children on the first floor, there is a safe room set aside for them."

He huffed a bit when the crowd seemed to be ignoring him and Rigsby couldn't help but laugh at Lisbon when she whistled loudly and got their attention, "PEOPLE!" she yelled, "Listen to the man, alright? There's enough insanity going on without us adding to it. Agent Minelli is trying to get in contact with the AG. We don't know how many agents we've lost yet, but we're trying to sort everything out so listen to Jane."

She waved back to the blond man and Jane nodded, smiling a bit, "Thank you, Lisbon," he said, before repeating what he had been saying moments earlier.

"Is that them?" Van Pelt asked.

"Yeah," Rigsby nodded, "Hey, uh, thanks,"

Grace smiled, "Not a problem. Seems pretty organized out here. You should go get your head checked out."

"Just gotta talk to Lisbon first,"

Grace rolled her eyes and sighed, "Fine. I'm going to stand right here and wait for you to get finished talking, then I'll drag you to the medical floor if I have to."

Rigsby sighed and eyed her for a moment, "Alright, alright. Just a minute…" he assured her and then pushed his way through the crowd to Lisbon and Jane, feeling a bit better knowing that they, at least, were still alive.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

John and Jake made for the village after the… things had finally ascended back to wherever the hell they'd come from. Their camp had been entirely obliterated – everyone had scattered, a few grabbing the jeep and taking off, some running into the desert, others being ripped to shreds by their attackers.

John and Jake were the only two left at the camp, gripping their guns uselessly, until they were certain that they were safe. John had immediately grabbed Jake's bloody hand, the dark skinned man hissing at the sudden movement.

"Sorry," John apologized, "We're gonna need to stitch this up, Talley. Could get infected,"

Jake laughed a bitter sort of laugh, "Yeah, yeah, sure. Hurry up,"

John had to rummage through his pack - their supplies had been scattered everywhere - to find the needle and the antiseptic. It amazed him that the man's hand was even still intact at all after latching onto the blade like it had, but the gash was nasty and, now, covered in dirt and rocks. The entire time John cleaned it, Jake hissed and grimaced, keeping his free hand clenched tightly onto his leg.

"What the hell were those things?" Jake asked, glancing up at the sky. "Sons-a-bitches came out of nowhere…"

"Dunno," John frowned, "Bit more curious about how you managed to crush them like that."

Jake shrugged, "Wish I knew," he said, flexing his free hand and staring at it with a frown, "All I know is, it started not long ago." A sly smile twisted his lips, "You have no idea how much I can bench, Watson."

John quirked a brow at him, "What? So you're Superman or something?"

Jake laughed and shook his head, "Nah, bullet's still do the trick, I guess. I mean, those knives certainly got me good, didn't they? But it's like… I'm stronger than I should be. Bent an iron rod into a pretzel last week just to see if I could. I don't know how it works, but… Thank God for it, huh?"

Watson nodded, "I'd be dead otherwise," he agreed.

"So what now? Looks like we're the only two that stuck around…"

John leaned back, doing the final stitch on Jake's hand closed and frowned, "Suppose so…" he agreed. "Guess we should… head to the village. Maybe there's someone still alive there."

Jake glanced in the direction of the village and nodded, "Don't have a better plan. Let's pack up and get moving. Maybe we'll figure out what the fuck is going on."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"- the Cyberman?" Gwen frowned and blinked, staring around the landscape. Owen was standing next to her, doing the same, eyes wide in shock. They were no longer in the middle of the frozen wasteland they had been in moments ago, but judging from Owen's face he didn't like this place much more.

"The desert," Owen said, his voice dry and empty for a moment. "The bloody desert. The fucking angel zapped us to the desert. If he even is an angel…" he spun around, sand wafting up in thin clouds at his feet.

Gwen sighed, shedding her jacket, "At least we're away from the Cyberman. Where do you think Ianto and Tosh are?"

"THE DESERT, GWEN!" Owen snapped, locking eyes with her. "Is that not registering to you? We were in the mountains, being slowly frozen by snow and now we're in _the desert."_

"I can see that, Owen," she said, "What I can't see are Ianto and Tosh."

Owen swore and shucked his own jacket off, shedding his gloves and checking his gun. "Don't know, maybe Angel-boy zapped them somewhere else. Here's another lovely fact. We're in the desert, almost out of ammo and you are taking this way too well."

"We don't have time to worry about the angel," Gwen snapped, "Alright? We're in the desert, yes, how isn't important. Let's just focus on getting home." She nodded her head to something behind Owen, "Looks like there's a village ahead. At least we might be able to figure out where we are."

Owen sighed, closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. "Right. Guess that's a start," he turned and waved for Gwen to take the lead before following her. It wasn't far off, they must've landed between cities or something. The village was small, just a handful of stone buildings and what might have been a church clustered together and a road. Either way, Gwen would be happy once they talked to someone.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Owen finally cleared his throat, "Sorry," he said. More like mumbled really. Gwen frowned and glanced over at him, seeing something on his face she hadn't expected to see. Fear.

"For what?"

"The bitching," Owen sighed, glancing over at her, "Look, I know you're trying, and yeah, you're not half bad at this, but you're still not Jack, Gwen. Jesus, we don't even know where Jack is and now we've lost Tosh and Ianto and almost got killed by a bloody Cyberman and an _angel _zapped us into the desert. Something tells me we're in for a shit load of trouble."

Gwen nodded seriously, "You're right," she said, "But nothing we can do about any of that right now. Let's just try and find out where we are, then we can try to find Ianto and Tosh."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Gibbs and Tony stayed in the morgue with Ducky while he did whatever he could to help Ziva. Jenny had left as soon as the call came through that Saxon's speech to the nation was about to air. She squeezed Gibbs' shoulder briefly, eyes traveling to the pale and unconscious Ziva on the table. Gibbs didn't react, didn't look up or shake her hand off, he just stared down at Ziva.

Ducky was at a loss. He'd seen bad injuries – hell they all had, many even worse than this – but the morgue wasn't exactly equipped to handle a wound of this magnitude and the doctor doubted that even a real hospital would've been able to help her much at all, except to ease the pain.

She had been right about her ribs being broken. The Toclafane's blade had cut right through her chest, shattering most of her ribs and exposing lung tissue to them. And one of her lungs was definitely punctured. Her breathing was ragged and strained as one lung worked to do the work of two and she kept bleeding.

Ducky didn't know what to do to stop the bleeding, she was getting weaker and paler by the second and Tony, who was gripping her limp hand, just stared at the blood that pulsed thickly out of the gash.

After searching her for any other severe cuts and injuries, Ducky turned to the broken ribs and punctured lung and flailed a bit, uncertain where to begin and not having any way to really help her.

"…She's not gonna make it, is she?" it was Tony who finally broke the tense silence. "You can't just patch up a wound like this."

Gibbs remained silent, eyes still locked on Ziva's face. He wanted there to be something they could do, but all he could see looking at Ziva now was Kate, the shock on her face for a split second before she'd died. Now Ziva was lying there, pale and slowly suffocating on her own blood and he couldn't do a goddamned thing about it.

"I… I'm afraid not," Ducky finally shook his head. "I could try to fix her lung, but this amount of damage… we would only be buying her a few more hours. She's already lost so much blood I… doubt she'll hold on more than another hour."

Tony nodded and there were tears in his eyes. For some reason that made Gibbs all the more pissed off. Tony was, in many ways, like a son to Gibbs. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud. Seeing him on the verge of tears made _him_ want to cry and that pissed him off.

"And she's in pain?"

Ducky immediately knew what Tony was going to suggest and found he wasn't entirely sure his heart could take it. "Immense pain," Ducky's voice was heavy and sad as he nodded.

Tony finally looked up from Ziva and met Ducky's eyes, "So it would be better if she weren't suffering…"

Ducky hesitated, "I… I suppose you're right,"

"He is," Gibbs finally spoke and the hard anger in his voice wasn't lost on Ducky or Tony. "Think you can spare a little morphine?"

Ducky's face softened and he nodded before opening the drawer of the pre-loaded syringes. He hadn't used much of the morphine he was supplied with anyway. Most of the agents he'd tended to refused it, which wasn't surprising given that most of them were probably used to the pain.

"…For Ziva…" he said quietly.

Gibbs nodded and neither he nor Tony looked away when Ducky administered the dose and blinked the tears away. It was a quick death. Her breathing slowed and became less ragged, her body untensed and her face relaxed until finally, her body went lax and her breathing stopped altogether.

They were silent for a long minute before Gibbs once more spoke, "This will not happen again,"

They didn't ask what he meant, they understood. Saxon would be stopped, no matter what the cost, he could not be allowed to live in Gibbs' world after this. Tony couldn't help but agree.

"Gibbs…?" Abby's voice was hesitant and she avoided looking at Ziva as she entered the morgue, "Director Shepard wants to see you. Saxon's address is going live in one minute."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The Doctor glanced over at Spencer as soon as they were alone, eyes scanning every inch of him for injury. For the most part, he appeared to be fine, but he was shaking a bit and looked terrified. The Doctor eased himself forward, frowning at the younger man, "Spencer, it's alright. We're going to be alright. I'll fix this, I swear…"

"Doctor," Reid's voice was quiet and the Doctor frowned when his large hazel eyes met his, "This isn't… Something wrong."

He frowned, "How do you mean?" Obviously something was wrong. The Master had taken over the entire world, that was very, very wrong. And the Doctor's plan to fix it… well, it was a bit uncertain, but he didn't have anything better and he had faith in Martha.

Reid closed his eyes and shook his head, "It's not _right_," he said. "I… I remember Harold Saxon, Doctor."

The Doctor's eyes widened and he frowned, now yanking his seat forward until his knees were almost touching Reid's, "You remember him?" he asked, "What do you remember, Spencer?"

Reid took a breath and opened his eyes again, "That's what's wrong, Doctor. I remember his election, I remember him killing the president, I even remember the Toclafane, but none of _this _happened. He disappeared after the assassination, everyone thought he'd gone crazy! He never… the Toclafane never attacked, all those people… They did die. Maybe… maybe my being here changed things. Maybe …"

"Shh, Spencer," the Doctor shook his head, "Don't do that, don't blame yourself for this. If it's anyone's fault it's mine, but trust me, we'll fix this."

Reid seemed skeptical, "_How_ though?" he asked, "How are you going to fix… this? And what about what I remember? What does that mean? It's got to mean something!"

The Doctor sighed, "I'm not sure what it means, but maybe, if we're lucky, it means my plan works."

Reid studied the Doctor, "You've got a plan?"

"A very… risky one. I'll explain later, whenever I can see you and Jack together again, alright? Right now, we're going to have to focus on making sure the Master doesn't know the plan. Can you tell me what he saw?"

Reid closed his eyes again and shook his head, "I'm not sure," he said, "There was… It felt…" he trailed off, not sure how to describe the feeling. It was a strange feeling, to have the Master inside his head. Entirely different from having the Doctor in his head, that was for sure.

The Doctor eyed him sympathetically, "I know," he sighed, "It hurts."

"I think… I think he saw what happened… before, I mean. When I first met you." The words came out in a bit of a rush and Reid grimaced, those memories still lingering at the front of his mind. He couldn't be sure exactly how much he had seen, because there was so much to be sorted through, but his gut tightened with fear at what the Master could do with that information.

The Doctor took a breath, looking just as worried as Spencer, "That's no good," he said, frowning.

"He knows I'm from… the future…" Reid frowned, "When he was in my head, I felt… I heard… I think he's going to go after me. The _other _me. It's 2007, so I… I'm in Virginia."

"That's very not good," the Doctor sounded more and more anxious and Reid wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

"Alright, Spencer, we can't have him going through your memories. Not… not those memories anyway. Foreknowledge is dangerous and if he knows anything about the future… What he'd do with that information would be catastrophic."

"So how do we stop him from getting to those memories?"

"I… can try to put up a wall. Nothing dangerous," he assured him when Reid immediately looked worried. "Not like what happened to you before. You'd still have the memories, it'd just be like a safe, where the Master couldn't get in."

Reid frowned, "Will it work?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "But it's worth a try at least. He'll probably find the wall if he goes digging, but with any luck he won't be able to break it."

Reid took a breath and nodded, "Alright. I trust you,"

The Doctor smiled a bit, "Not sure you should, given the circumstances, but thank you anyway. Hold still. It'll be a bit uncomfortable…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The Prime Minister's address was broadcast nationwide, one nation at a time, everything else being shut off. Not that there was much else on – just news stations relaying the same information they'd been showing for the last several hours. The Toclafane attack, the presidential assassination. The still rising death toll. There were no official numbers, of course, but things were bleak enough as it was.

The second it started the FBI agents were waiting, every working television on, radios tuned in. Everyone on every floor stopped whatever they had been doing and watched with baited breath as Harold Saxon's face dominated the screen, his wife, Lucy, standing behind him.

No one else was visible, but the people who'd been aboard the _Valiant _were either dead or prisoners by the FBI's guess anyway. Saxon started the presentation with a smile that was so like the smile he'd smiled just days ago after he'd been elected.

"Greeting citizens of… what country is this one? The United States, oh, lovely," his smile twisted a bit, "Right, well, I don't have to inform you that your president has been killed. You were all watching that, I suppose. I do have a few other things to say, however. President Winters wasn't only the first world leader to have been killed by the Toclafane… You see, they targeted the leader of every single country in the entire world. Magnificent creatures, aren't they?"

He beamed when several Toclafane appeared behind him, floating gently in the air.

Morgan scowled at the things, rage burning inside of him at the very sight, but everyone remained silent, waiting to hear what Saxon wanted. And what he wanted, apparently, was their surrender. He told them he knew about the safe houses cropping up, about the military deserters who'd taken weapons and run underground. He assured everyone that the Toclafane had no problems taking the families of those who continued to resist and that he didn't want anyone else to die.

His speech lasted almost an hour, explaining that anyone who resisted would be killed, anyone who tried to fight back would have their families taken into custody. He explained the ways things were to be handled. Doctors, law enforcement and military would be used for other purposes, but anyone else would be relegated to working in his soon to be in commission factories. He didn't say what the factories would be building, but it didn't really matter.

The situation seemed to spin even deeper into some horrifying science fiction movie whenever Saxon let out a loaded statement. _"I'm not even human,"_

They weren't sure what to make of Saxon's claims of being an alien. On the one hand, it seemed completely ridiculous, but on the other… after what had just happened, the claim gained a lot of validity. There were whispers going on after that, agents wondering aloud what he meant and whether he was crazy or if it was possible he was telling the truth.

It wasn't until the end that Saxon announced that had a list of people he wanted and that hiding these people who be punished with death. The list was long and there were governors, senators, the Director of every national and international government agency – CIA, FBI, MI5, etc. – and several other political players that even they had never heard of. They sat in silence through it all until near the very end, after the photograph of Martha Jones flashed on the screen and was quickly followed with the face of Prentiss' mother, Elizabeth.

Prentiss swallowed and closed her eyes, tension filling her gut, but at least that meant her mother was still alive out there. She could only hope that she'd be able to avoid Saxon.

"FBI Agent Dr. Spencer Reid,"

The Master read from his list and Reid's photo flew onto the screen.

Reid's heart stopped for a second and Morgan and Garcia both gripped Reid's hands, sitting at their side.

"What the hell does he want with Reid?" Prentiss spoke for the first time, turning to give Hotch and incredulous look. Other agents were turning to look at them as well. It was one thing for Saxon to want the Director, but what did he want with Reid?

Hotch stared at the screen, shaking his head. "I don't know, but he's not getting him."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It was late when the Impala finally pulled into the old salvage yard, broken and beaten cars littering the way. They had listened to Saxon's message on the radio, both shaking their heads in disbelief. No one had a choice, they either bent to Saxon's will or they were destroyed. According to what they'd heard, America and the UK were fighting back the hardest.

Safe houses were already beginning to crop up and Saxon's list of "Most Wanted" was a daunting and terrifying list. Any powerful political player who hadn't been killed in the initial attack, UNIT agents, military personnel who had already gone underground, family members of powerful people. FBI agents, governors, senators, religious leaders. The list just went on. The brothers didn't even know most of the names, but that wasn't really saying much. They could hardly say they stayed in tune to the news, unless it was something weird enough to be considered Supernatural, they didn't really pay attention.

Right now, Sam was wishing they had because Saxon had been in the news for a long time as the up-and-coming new Prime Minister. All Sam really knew about the guy was that he'd won in a landslide victory and apparently most of the world had fallen in love with the man. A regular Hitler if he'd ever seen one.

After Saxon's announcement that he wasn't human, Dean had scoffed at the idea of him being an alien.

"Probably possessed by some demon," Dean had said, adamant that there was no way this was aliens. Sam was still on the fence, of course. Given their experience, it did seem more likely that Saxon had been possessed by a demon, but he couldn't dismiss everything that seemed to prove that the earth wasn't the only planet with life.

There were no lights on at Bobby's and the Impala's headlights flashed against the old house eerily as they climbed out. There were obvious signs of Toclafane having been there: busted windows, shredded metal, splintered wood. Hell, Sam was half amazed the house was intact at all. Even the old rusty dog chain had been cut in several pieces, the links twisted and bent. A sick feeling entered Sam's stomach and he glanced at his brother.

Dean was thinking the same things Sam was, but there was that look in his eyes that made Sam nervous. He'd seen it before, a look that said very clearly that he had already made up his mind that Bobby was going to be fine and if he wasn't…

Instinctively, they pulled their guns from their jeans, clicking off the safety and edging cautiously toward the house. They hadn't seen a single Toclafane on the way over, but there was no sense taking any chances. The wood creaked beneath their feet and Sam shot anxious eyes toward Dean, that worry gnawing at his stomach.

They didn't say anything. Dean jerked his head forward and Sam moved to push the door open. It slid open silently and they slowly hedged their way inside, guns going to the left and right before aiming straight ahead. They went through the entrance and kitchen first, frowning and lowering their guns.

"I don't think anything's here, Dean," Sam said quietly.

"…Yeah," Dean nodded, shoving the .45 into the back of his jeans again, his face set in a hard line. His green eyes were clouded with far too many emotions for Sam to be comfortable. "Maybe… maybe Bobby hightailed it outta here as soon as he heard 'em coming…"

The half-hopeful tone in his older brother's voice almost killed Sam. They both knew that was unlikely, but he nodded anyway. He wanted to believe that was what had happened. "Let's check upstairs, just to… to be sure…"

They didn't find anything at first, but pushing the door open to Bobby's bedroom, they heard it. Shallow, ragged breaths of a pained man. Without thinking, they rushed inside and found him. He was propped up against the wall, head leaning back against the wood, eyes closed, weathered face pinched in pain. One arm was hanging uselessly by his side and from what Sam could tell it was cut right down to the bone.

There was so much blood that it actually took them a moment to realize what was really wrong. Bobby had his good arm wrapped tightly around his middle, blood staining his fingers and shirt. He was… Sam fought the urge to puke at the sight and shook his head. His midsection had cut almost clean open and Bobby was barely holding his own intestines inside his body. It was a miracle the old man was breathing at all.

Dean ignored the blood, ignored the guts and edged forward, cautiously touching a hand to Bobby's shoulder.

The old hunter's eyes snapped open, bleary and glassy. It took a moment before they settled on Dean and then a half-grimace, half-smile twisted his lips.

"Took you idjits long enough," he rasped, a choked sound that Sam guessed was supposed to be a laugh puffing out.

"Sorry, Bobby," Dean's voice was tight, "We got caught up, ya know? Alien monsters killing people…"

Bobby closed his eyes and nodded as best he could, "Figured," he said, "Least you two are… alright…"

"Don't worry, Bobby," Dean slid a bit closer, "We'll get you out of here, find someone to fix ya up –"

"Dean –"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean turned and glared at his younger brother before edging a bit closer to Bobby, "He's gonna be fine."

Bobby's lips twisted a bit more, but there was blood on his teeth and lips and Sam had to look away, his insides twisting with pain, "Boy, don't be… stupid…" he rasped, "We both know I ain't getting out of this one…"

"Nah, come on, Bobby," and there were tears in Dean's eyes, "You're fine. Just… Just a flesh wound, that's all. Stitch ya up, you'll be okay."

Bobby shook his head, "Don't… don't do that to yourself, Boy…" he gasped, the effort was taking a lot of him. Sam was pretty sure he didn't have a lot of time left and goddamn it, he was not going to cry right now. He scrubbed at his burning eyes. Dean was already starting to shut down and he wasn't going to cry in front of Bobby.

"You two just… just focus on stopping th-those things…"

"Bobby –" Sam's voice cracked. He hated that it cracked, but he couldn't help it. Bobby had been more like a father to him than John ever had. He knew Dean would hate him if he admitted that, but it was true.

"Sam, don't," Bobby's eyes slid open slowly and he met Sam's teary gaze, "I'm getting' old anyway… Y-You and Dean," he looked back at Dean, "You two gotta keep going. Don't… don't let this… slow… you… down…"

"Bobby," Dean's voice was watery and even though Sam couldn't see his face he knew he was crying now. "You can't die, Bobby. We need ya. Come on, Bobby, I can't lose someone else. I can't."

"Sure ya can…" Bobby closed his eyes again. "Happens all… the time, boy. Losing people… Part of… part of the life…"

"Not this time…"

Bobby didn't say anything, but they knew he was still with them, his ragged shallow breathing their only indication that he was alive. They sat in silence for almost an hour, listening to him breathing, not wanting to wake him up because at least while he was asleep he wasn't in pain.

"Sam, we gotta do something, there has to be something we can –"

"Dean," Sam's voice was heavy and tired and he never took his eyes off Bobby, "What are we supposed to do? We can't just stitch that up. There's no way –"

"There has to be a way!" Dean snapped, anger and bitterness eating through his voice. "He can't just die, Sam! Damn it, not now. Not after…" he trailed off but Sam knew what he was going to say anyway. Not after _Dad_.

They fell quiet again, but only for about fifteen minutes. Then the entire room went silent and Sam, tears falling down his face, leaned forward to press two fingers to Bobby's neck. No pulse. He leaned back and with one look, Dean knew it was over. Before Sam could say anything, Dean was already up, fire and rage and pain blazing in his eyes before he suddenly whirled around and slammed a fist into the wall.

"Goddammit!" he screamed, body shaking with emotion.

"Dean –"

"I'm gonna kill him," Dean suddenly said, not turning to look at Sam. "I'm gonna rip that son of a bitch's head off."

Sam didn't ask who he meant because he already knew. And he didn't follow Dean downstairs or investigate the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass because he had no intention of being caught in the crossfire of Dean's grief this time. Instead, he sat back down on the bed, let out a slow breath and felt the sobs overtake him.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The world bellow was in turmoil from where Castiel watched; his anxious, uncertain eyes cast down toward the earth. Being an Angel, of course, did not grant omniscience by any stretch of the imagination, but from Heaven's vantage point, the solider could see a great deal more than humans could hope to.

He sensed rather than heard his brother appear behind him and couldn't honestly say that he was surprised.

"Castiel," the greeting was short and a bit strained. Obviously, he knew what he had done in the Himalayas.

"Uriel," Castiel didn't bother turning around, still watching the earth, something he had never felt before welling up inside of him. Angels didn't experience emotions, not like humans did, but if he had to place a name on what he was feeling he would call it fear.

The other angel suddenly appeared in front of him, a disapproving frown marring his features. "You took a vessel," Uriel stated. Castiel did not bother contradicting him because it was true. He had taken an earthly vessel, but he had deemed it necessary.

"Castiel," Uriel's frown turned into a scowl, "You know we are not permitted to walk the earth, much less take a human vessel!"

"It… was necessary," Castiel said, his voice a low monotone, a hint of that uncertainty slipping through. "Those people were going to be killed."

"And it is not our place to save them," Uriel said, "It has been expressly forbidden, Castiel. It is not yet time."

"That is the problem, Uriel," Castiel said, finally lifting his eyes to look at his brother, "Time. There is something… wrong with time. Can you not see it?"

Uriel hesitated, "Time has gone… indistinct," he nodded, "We've all noticed, Castiel. But our orders remain the same –"

"It is Armageddon bellow," Castiel said, shaking his head, "An Armageddon that is not of our Father's making."

"You still should not have left," Uriel insisted, "Until we are told otherwise, our orders remain the same. You are supposed to be watching the Winchesters."

"I am," Castiel insisted, nodding his head toward the scene he had been observing before Uriel interrupted him. "They are… upset. Robert Singer has been killed." His eyes traveled back to Uriel's, "Perhaps I should –"

"One trip was risky enough, Brother," Uriel warned, "Robert Singer is of no importance to us or our Father's plan. When the time comes, we must make sure that Dean Winchester is ready. Other casualties need not matter."

Castiel remained uncertain, "Perhaps you are right," he said, "Yet Sam and Dean Winchester view Robert Singer as a very important factor in their lives. If we were to –"

"Castiel," Uriel's voice was a low growl of a warning now and Castiel narrowed his eyes at the thinly veiled threat in his tone. "We are not to interfere."

"Time is being tampered with," Castiel's voice was still steady, but gruff and his eyes were hard and flinty, "We should be concerned about this new… occurrence, Uriel, but I _know _my orders and I am following them. Do not forget who the leader of this garrison is."

Uriel bowed his head, but something flashed in his eyes, something that Castiel would rather pretend he had not seen. "Of course not, Brother," and the word was almost a sneer if angels could really sneer, "I am merely concerned that you are becoming a bit… reckless and attached to these… apes."

For a second, Castiel's eyes flashed with unexpected anger, "Those _apes_ are our Father's creations, and he commanded that we love, protect and bow down to them," he said, "Be careful of your words, Uriel. You are beginning to sound like Lucifer."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Jack paced the cell back and forth for what felt like hours. They were all silent, Clive and Francine sitting with Tish on the bench, her mother holding her tightly in her arms. Jack had done nothing much but pace since Spencer had been taken.

They were too far down to have heard anything and it was beginning to annoy Jack that they hadn't brought Spencer back down. He didn't even want to imagine the things that could be happening up there. It was the longest few hours of Jack's life before someone finally came down the hall and the former Time Agent was surprised to see the small frame of Lucy Saxon standing there, her eyes dead and face unsmiling as she watched them. There were three armed guards with her, though none of them looked exactly thrilled to be there.

He blinked and moved to the bars of the cell, gripping them tight and glaring at the woman. He wasn't sure why he held so much contempt for her, but she was obviously unbothered by what her husband had done and that was reason enough, he supposed.

"Where's Spencer?" he growled, fingers so tight against the bars that his knuckles turned white and his eyes blazed with anger.

Lucy didn't answer and Jack hadn't really expected her to, "My husband –"

"Is a psychopath," Jack cut her off, frowning at her. "He's not even human."

She tilted her head curiously, "I know," she said, her words flat.

Jack shook his head, "That doesn't bother you?"

She blinked, "Should it?"

"Of course it should!" Francine stood from where she'd been sitting, scowling at the petite blond woman, "It should make your skin crawl! The things he's done! How can you stand to be in the same room with him."

Lucy took the outburst in without one ounce of emotion flittering on her face. "He loves me," she said simply, as if that were the only justification she'd ever need. And again, Jack was stunned by how entirely dead the woman seemed emotionally.

After a pause, she turned to look back at Jack, "As I was saying, my husband wants to see you. All of you. He's very busy, so move quickly. Anyone who resists will be shot." Her eyes went to Jack, "And he said to tell you that if _you _resist, he will have that other man, Spencer, shot."

Jack's eyes darkened and he growled, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

For the first time, Lucy Saxon smiled, it just a small, twitch of her lips, but it was a smile. "I imagine there are a great many things wrong with my by your standards. Now stand back so they can open the doors. And remember what I said. Harold does not like to be kept waiting."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **And that, my friends, is the longest chapter I've ever written for a fanfiction. *looks up at chapter* Hope it was alright. I gotta tell you, part of the reason I took so long with it was Bobby's death. It took everything in me to write that scene. I kept crying, it just ripped my heart to bits to do that, but my muse kept insisting that Bobby wouldn't have survived and she made me keep it like that even though I wanted Cas to swoop in and save him. *cries*

Also, who else is loving series 7 of DW so far? Gah, "Asylum of the Daleks" might be my new favorite series opener. Oswin was certainly amazing =D And Rory's dad in "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship" … Fantastic! No spoilers though, promise, but if you haven't seen the new episodes you are going to love them!

Anyway, please review!


	10. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter Five

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

**A/N: **First, as always, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and thanks to those who added this to their alerts and favorites! Your support means a lot to me and I love you guys! Thanks!

Second, I'm sorry for the wait, once more. These chapters are harder and harder to write – or, well, getting longer by the chapter, lol. But I'm really enjoying myself writing this one, gotta say. Sorry for making you wait a couple of weeks for new chapters. That's life right now *sigh*

Anyway, I appreciate your reviews and insight and comments! Thanks and please keep them coming!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

As soon as his brother and Miss Jones left, Mycroft sank into the seat behind his desk once more, taking a deep breath and allowing his cool façade to crumble just a little bit. His hand shook ever so slightly, but he reached for the landline and glanced down at the list he'd made before his brother had shown up. He'd been planning to reconnect with contacts to find out more about Miss Jones' mystery guest, but now he knew that whole story and had a slightly different call to make.

To the head of Scientific Research in UNIT. One Kate Lethbridge-Stewart.

Every number except her personal contact number was, at this point, null-and-void, but Mycroft wasn't without a few tricks up his sleeve and he knew that not all UNIT employees were so keen on Archangel, Kate being one of them.

_"Can't say I'm not surprised to hear from you again, Mycroft,"_ she answered on the first ring, _"Been a hell of day, hasn't it?"_

Mycroft could hear some emotion clouding her voice and he frowned a bit. Emotion and sentiment had never been his area of expertise and he certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end of a woman's grief. He'd worked rather closely with UNIT, and Kate in particular, but considered none of them friends.

"It certainly has," he said, "I've just had a rather… enlightening chat with Miss Martha Jones."

_"You're joking," _Kate sounded surprised, _"She's still alive?"_

"Still alive and with a very interesting story to tell. I'm sure your father told you about the Doctor even when you were young, yes?"

_"…Yes, he did. Quite often in fact."_

"Miss Jones appears to be one of his companions. According to her, that face on the news yesterday was the Doctor's."

Kate took in a surprised breath, _"The Doctor's here? On Earth?"_

"On the _Valiant_, I'm afraid," Mycroft spoke carefully now, "I don't know how much your father might have told you, but I'm sure you've read the files UNIT has on him and another Time Lord like him… Called him The Master?"

_"…Oh God, you're not saying that the Master has something to do with… the Toclafane?"_

"Unfortunately, I am. I haven't been privy to those particular files, they're quite old, but I thought you might have been. According to Miss Jones, Harold Saxon _is _the Master,"

_"…Mycroft… If that's true we've got more than just the Toclafane to worry about. If Saxon's the Master and he's got the Doctor –"_

"Miss Jones has a plan," Mycroft cut her off, "Or, rather, the Doctor does. It is essential, however, that the Master doesn't know the plan. If the Master is anywhere near as intelligent as the Doctor, then we both know he'll know there's a plan. Our only hope is to distract him."

_"Distract him with…?"_

Mycroft smiled a bit, "The Doctor's plan conveniently does not end with the Master's death. I'm certain, however, that someone like him will expect Miss Jones and the people of this planet to want his hearts ripped out. He'll be looking for a plan to assassinate him and we can give him that."

_"You mean lay a false trail? Mycroft Holmes, I do think I like the way you think,"_

Mycroft smiled, "I thought you might," he said, "Unfortunately for both of us, our Mr. Saxon will undoubtedly want people of our ilk out of the way so you'll have to move quickly. Jones will be in Cardiff, though I'm not sure how long. I'm sure you know about Torchwood… Meet her there."

_"I'll do my best…" _Kate hesitated, _"But… Mycroft, what about yourself? You should get into hiding, go somewhere deep. Perhaps what's left of UNIT could –"_

"I'm afraid that we're already a bit late on that," Mycroft glanced up, hearing something shattering downstairs, "I doubt very seriously if I have any time left at all."

_"Are you –"_

"Get to Cardiff as quickly as possible." Mycroft cut her off, hanging up and closing his eyes. He hadn't expected to have much time at all and he hadn't expected to be taken prisoner either. No, the Master would certainly want him cleanly out of the way. He could hear the light humming of the Toclafane as they made their way upstairs and he reached into the locked drawer of his desk, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a shining sliver lighter.

He slipped the cigarette between his lips and took a long drag off of it, an eerie calm settling over him before the door to the office was slashed to bits by a set of flashing, rotating blades.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The doctor leaned over Rigsby, shining a small penlight into his eyes and gently pushing against his temple. He hissed and glanced over at Grace, who stood a few feet to the side with her arms crossed over her chest, watching them. The sight of her still there made him smile a bit.

"Well," the doctor straightened up and eyed him head to toe, "You don't appear to have any fractures or broken bones. Lucky, considering a bar practically fell on you, Agent Rigsby. But you _do _have a mild concussion and I'm going to have to stitch that gash in your head."

"Stitches? No," Rigsby shook his head, "I'll be fine. It's just a scratch."

"It's a gash," the woman insisted, "And leaving it untended is a bad idea. It won't hurt much, I'm very good."

"Sure, but my team –"

"Wayne," Grace walked over and raised a brow, shaking her head, "If she says you need stitches you need stitches." She turned to face the doctor, "I'm sorry Doctor…?"

"Holloway," the woman smiled a bit, "Grace Holloway."

Rigsby made a small snort and Grace turned to frown at him, "What?"

"You're both named Grace," he said, raising a brow, "Kinda funny."

Grace sighed and turned back to the doctor, "Grace Van Pelt," she said, holding out her hand.

Dr. Holloway smiled, "I see," she said, "Are you and Agent Rigsby… together?"

"What?" Grace frowned, "No, no! We just met, I'm cop with Sac PD," she explained, "Only known Wayne for a few hours, but he's apparently stubborn."

Dr. Holloway nodded, "Ah," she said, "Wouldn't be the first stubborn agent I've met. But you really do need stitches, Agent Rigsby –"

"I'm fine, just give me a Band-Aid and –"

Grace cleared her throat and leveled him with an annoyed look. Rigsby sighed and frowned, almost rolling his eyes before finally nodding, "Fine, fine, alright. Stitches. Joy."

The redheaded cop smile and the doctor nodded her thanks. As she had begun stitching the gash up, Rigsby grunting every now and then and Grace hovering around with watchful eyes, a young agent can through the entrance with a small megaphone in hand.

"We've got fifteen minutes 'til Saxon's address," he said, "Fifteen minutes."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Martha and Sherlock materialized with a slight jolt and Martha winced, head pounding. She was certain the numerous teleportations, so close together, couldn't be good for her health. Glancing around, she immediately recognized the Millennium Centre a few yards away and smiled a bit ruefully.

"Back where we began," she said, shaking her head.

"Sorry?" Sherlock raised a brow and Martha blinked, realizing he hadn't been there with her, the Doctor and Reid when they'd landed. She'd spent what already felt like a lifetime with Sherlock Holmes; it was hard to remember he hadn't been a part of this from the beginning.

"This is where we landed," she explained, "Right before the TARDIS decided to blast us to the end of the Universe."

"Ah," Sherlock nodded and said nothing else, turning calculating, cold eyes on the devastated city. There were already people gathering bodies and clearing them away, sections roped off with tape or rope or whatever was available to mark off areas for medical help and information – as if there really was anything anyone could tell them that would make this better.

Watching the scene, Martha realized that, while this wasn't going to be easy, it wasn't going to be as difficult as it could have been. The Human race was resilient and she was certain they would fight back to the last breath. She found herself thinking that the Master had probably underestimated them.

"Alright, where are we going?" she asked, "You said you didn't know exactly where Torchwood was located so how do you plan to –"

"This way," Sherlock cut her off, striding quickly down the street. She had to run a bit to keep up and grimaced as she nearly tripped over bodies. Sherlock didn't seem to pay them any mind and the young woman sighed, grabbing his arm.

"Sherlock!" she snapped, "Slow down and explain. I can't read your mind, you know."

Sherlock huffed a sigh, "I said I don't know where their base is," he explained, "But I _do _know who works there and that young woman," he nodded his head toward a woman a few yards ahead of them, carrying a laptop under one arm and talking into a radio held in her other hand, "Is Toshiko Sato. One of their agents."

Martha frowned, "Hold on, you know who works there and you know at least a bit about their technology as well. How? Jack said Torchwood was supposed to be covert and I've never heard of them."

"Of course you haven't," Sherlock muttered, "You weren't looking, were you?"

Martha huffed, crossing her arms, "How is it you know all of this?"

"I'm observant,"

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it,"

"No it isn't," Martha shook her head, "You just don't want to tell me."

"Miss Jones do you want my help or not?"

"Fine," Martha sighed, "Lead the way, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock gave her one more cold look before turning and briskly catching up to Tosh, who was now speaking into the radio in her hand, standing outside of the water tower near, a faint frown on her face. She didn't see Martha and Sherlock approach and Sherlock's voice startled her into nearly dropping the laptop she was carrying.

"Miss Sato, isn't it?"

Tosh turned wide eyes to Sherlock and Martha and then, after a moment to collect herself, she studied them both carefully. "Who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock answered, "This is Martha Jones. We need to speak to you about what's happened recently with Mr. Saxon and his… Toclafane."

"His what?" Tosh frowned, looking confused. Sherlock started to say something and Martha cut him off, sending him an annoyed look.

"Look, I'm sure you probably don't trust strangers, but we don't exactly have time to get to know one another right now. I'm a friend of Jack Harkness," she explained, "And –"

"Jack!" Tosh's confusion gave way to worry and anxiety. "Do you know where Jack is? We haven't seen him in months."

"… Jack… Jack's on the _Valiant_," Martha explained slowly, "He in trouble and without your help… everyone else is too."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Have we heard from anyone else?" Gibbs asked, glancing down at Abby as they headed to the elevators with Tony and Ducky behind them.

Abby shook her head and glanced up at him, "Not since Ziva came in," she said quietly.

"What about everyone else? Who have we lost?"

"Palmer," Tony spoke up this time, "Guess he tried to run for cover here, but he didn't make it. Someone found his body not far from here… We're still trying to get a working landline to call out, but I haven't heard from anybody."

"Director Shepard wants to send out search parties," Abby told them, "Once the broadcast is done. McGee's worried about his sister, she hasn't called."

"No one has," Tony looked a bit anxious then, frowning.

"Gibbs!" Jenny spotted them as they stepped out of the elevator, "Hurry up, he's already started…"

The four of them hurriedly followed the director to the bullpen where the agents, some bloody and wounded, were gathered around the televisions in silence. Jenny waved them over and Gibbs moved to stand next to her as they gazed up at the grinning, gloating face of Harold Saxon.

Instinctively, Gibbs' fists clenched, longing to wrap around his throat and snap his neck. Rage colored his vision as he listened to the man's words, mocking them about the death of President Winters and assuring them that they had absolutely no hope of resisting.

Saxon let out a chuckle as the Toclafane floated behind him, lighting winking at him, "Now there may be some of you – in fact I'd wager most of you, given the way you Americans seem to thrive on violence and vengeance – that will think you can just… kill me. Kill me and all your problems go away," his eyes sparkled, "But that'd prove a bit difficult, you see, because, heh, I'm not who you think I am. My name isn't Harold Saxon. I'm not even human."

His smile suddenly fell and his face went hard, "I'm far more to you lot of whimpering, blundering apes."

Whispers began to ripple through the crowd of agents as Gibbs scowled at the screen and the man kept talking.

"You can't kill me," he said, "You couldn't even begin to know how. I am your Lord and Master now and, well," he grinned brightly, "There's nothing you insects can really do to change that…"

His speech went on, explaining the futility of fighting back, explaining the punishment for trying and his willingness to kill families and children if he had to. Most of the agents tried to pay attention, but they were still hung up on Saxon's "not human" revelation. Ducky, in particular, seemed a bit uneasy about it, frowning at the television with scrutinous eyes.

And then came the list, the dauntingly long list of people Saxon wanted out of the way. Some of them made sense from a logical view, at least to Gibbs. Political leaders, religious leaders, powerful government heads. Jenny was on that list and as soon as Saxon said her name that white hot rage of defiance was back. As far as Gibbs was concerned, that bastard wasn't taking anyone else. There were several UNIT employees on that list, which wasn't surprising.

If Saxon was telling the truth about not being human, UNIT would probably be the most qualified to take him out. But then there were others, like a young medical student who'd apparently caused a bit of trouble in London, like a married couple who had no government or political ties that Gibbs could think of, like a doctor living in California and even a young woman from London who couldn't have been thirty years old yet.

Some of the names on the list just didn't seem to make any sense. Maybe they were part of something bigger that Gibbs didn't understand, but Ducky was looking more and more uneasy as the broadcast went on and once it finished, he looked practically ill.

Jenny, standing stone stiff and pale, took direction once more, organizing teams of agents to go out looking for their family and other missing agents while others worked on getting the landlines back in order. Tony went with a group of searchers while Abby joined McGee in working around Archangel. Jenny looked a bit terrified, but holding it together.

"We've got to get you out of here," Gibbs said, "If that bastard's coming after you, you need to get to a safe house as soon as possible."

"I've got a duty here Jethro," Jenny said, "I'm not leaving. Not yet anyway. I'll leave as soon as we find out how much damage was done. You can figure out where they go from there…"

"We may have a bigger problem," Ducky spoke suddenly, frowning.

"Bigger how?"

"I don't think Saxon was lying when he said he wasn't human," Ducky said, "Do you remember when I told you that I once worked for UNIT as one of their medical officers?"

"Yeah, Duck, I remember," Gibbs nodded. He hated to admit that he rarely paid Ducky's rambling stories too much attention, usually letting the doctor prattle on and then forgetting what he'd said unless it was somehow pertinent to the case they were working. But he did remember Ducky saying he'd worked with UNIT.

"Back in those days UNIT was headed by a man called the Brigadier. I was still quite young, you know, but there was a man there, worked very closely with the Brigadier, he was called the Doctor. I only met him a few times, but the man was brilliant and… not human."

Gibbs raised a brow and frowned as Ducky sighed, "He was an alien, called himself a Time Lord. And there were others like him, other Time Lords. One of them called himself the Master."

"You're not telling me you think Saxon's this Master guy?"

Ducky nodded grimly, "I'm afraid so Gibbs. It's been a long time, I know, but Time Lords don't age the same way we do… And they're not at all easy to kill. They can change their faces… Similar to the way we say cats have nine lives, Time Lords really do. Of course, not nine, actually, but you can't kill them. When they die, they just get a new body."

Gibbs frowned, "They what?"

"They get a new body Gibbs, the Doctor called it Regeneration. I haven't got a clue how it works, but Saxon says he isn't human and I know some of those names… People who were close to the Doctor…"

"Damn it," Gibbs swore, shaking his head. "You're sure?"

"I'm positive,"

"There's got to be a way to kill him, Ducky. He can't be immortal…"

Ducky hesitated, "I'm sure there must be, Jethro, but it wouldn't be easy."

"Difficult doesn't mean impossible,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"What does he mean he's not human?" Rigsby frowned, one hand still probing at the bandage on his head. They were gathered in the bullpen on the third floor, other agents gathered on other floors around whatever televisions they had working. Grace and Dr. Holloway were standing to one side of him while Lisbon and Jane were on the other. Minelli was watching from the front of the ground, an anxious look his face.

"Shh," Lisbon shushed him, her eyes glued to screen, knuckles white as her hands gripped at nothing. She couldn't quite explain the feeling she was having right now, some strange and awful combination of pain, anger and hate flaring up inside of her stomach, trying to beat its way out of her throat. She felt the overwhelming urge to shoot something and that actually scared her a little. She hadn't been this angry in a very long time.

For the most part, the CBI was silent as they watched – due in part because there weren't that many agents to create noise. They had lost at least a third of their agents by Minelli estimate and there were still some missing out there.

Lisbon had thought she'd been hit the hardest by Rigsby's news of Cho's death until she'd gotten word of Agent Sam Bosco's death as well. Bosco was one of Lisbon's oldest friends in the CBI and her former partner when she'd just been starting out. His death hit her harder than she'd expected it to. Minelli still hadn't been able to contact the AG and most of them assumed he had been killed. Right now, all that mattered to any of them was finding out if their families were still alive and, if they were, keeping them that way.

She still hadn't been able to get through to her brothers or even her brother Tommy's wife or daughter. She didn't want to think about what that meant, instead focusing on keeping her team alive.

As Saxon, or, apparently, The Master as he had decided to call himself, began the long list of people he wanted, Lisbon felt her jaw tighten at Minelli's name and she saw the older man pale a bit. This was too much, too fast and her head was spinning.

On Rigsby's other side, one of the doctors gasped when the name Grace Holloway came up and her photo flashed on the screen. Lisbon frowned and looked toward the woman, eyeing her up and down. There didn't seem to be anything about her that stood out too much and she wasn't, as far as Lisbon knew, anyone involved with important politics or government. Maybe she had family that was?

Judging by the look on the doctor's face, her name had been as much a shock to her as it was to Lisbon.

As the broadcast ended, commotion broke out amongst the agents and Minelli had to shout to calm them down before directing them to use the landlines if they hadn't already to check on family and friends. They were sending search parties out and other agents broke into groups to take care of the bodies.

Dr. Holloway moved numbly back to her station on the medical floor, pale and shaken. Lisbon watched her go and frowned, "Rigsby… van Pelt, right?" she glanced at the redhead curiously, "You two come with me. There are bodies downstairs still and they're gonna need help taking care of them…"

Rigsby frowned, "Sure boss," he nodded, "But… what about your family?"

Lisbon froze for a second and then scowled, "What about them?"

"Have you -?"

"I'll call later. Right now let's just focus on taking care of things here, alright?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It didn't take the FBI too long to begin separating into groups. Some were going on to search the homes of missing agents; some were carrying the bodies out of the lobby and doing their best to find places to bury them. The technical staff was working on cracking Archangel, but so far they were still at a dead end.

There were agents at every available landline phone connecting calling family, trying establish who was alive and who wasn't. There had never been a disaster to this scale in the entire history of the planet and it took everything in them not to panic. Some agents were just staring at nothing with tears in their eyes, not knowing what to do because they'd lost everything and everyone.

Hotch couldn't help but empathize with them. Morgan was leaning against the wall with a phone pressed his ear, praying that his mother would answer while Prentiss had volunteered to go out with the search parties to find out what had become of Gideon. Hotch insisted that Reid not go with her. Despite the fact that Prentiss was an extremely likely target, her name hadn't been mentioned in the initial list, unlike Reid's had.

The younger agent hadn't been happy about being next to useless, but he had phoned his mother's sanitarium in Vegas to try and find out whether or not she was alive. Hotch had yet to get to a phone, just watching what was left of the team and knowing that Reid and Prentiss couldn't stay here longer and it would be better for them all if they got people like Garcia out before "the Master" realized their capabilities.

"Hotch," Morgan called him over, nodding his head toward the phone and the Unit Chief took it, frowning at Morgan's expression. It was entirely unreadable.

"Did you –"

"Mom's gone," Derek's voice cracked and he looked away, "So is Sara. Desi… Desi's alive, but she can't get out of Chicago."

Hotch started to say "I'm sorry," but Morgan had already walked away and was heading to where Reid had just hung up the phone he was on. Hotch noticed Reid's hands shaking and the tears in the young man's eyes and gripped the receiver in his own hand tighter. Damn it, how many more people were going to die because of this?

He hesitated to call Sean and instead found himself trying to reach Jessica first. It took him several tries, but some part of him just wouldn't give up on the idea that if Hailey had gone, at least Jessica had to be alive. When he finally got an answer it wasn't Jessica, but the man on the other end told him that Jessica Brooks was indeed alive, but injured badly. Hotch would have rather passed on the news of Hailey's death personally, but at least Jessica was alive.

Sean hadn't been so lucky. After five tries and no response, Hotch got an answer at the small restaurant his brother ran in New York and was informed by one of the employees that they'd found Sean Hotchner's body in the parking lot.

After that, Hotch just held the phone for several minutes before finally making the call he'd been alternately dreading and hoping to make…

And maybe, just maybe, there was a God who answered prayers because the voice at the other end felt like a miracle to Hotch's ears and his own voice cracked with emotions when he heard it.

"Dave…?"

_"Who's this?"_

"Aaron Hotchner,"

_"Hotch?" _there was a half-surprised sounding laugh from the older man before he sobered a bit, _"Didn't expect to get a call from you…"_

"I know," he said, "But we could use your help here, Rossi," he said, "It's a lot to ask but… I need you right now."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

By the time Sam finally went downstairs, the old house was quiet again. Sam had scrubbed the tears from his eyes and splashed water on his face. Not only had he and Dean been going for almost twenty-four straight hours, but grief was exhausting in itself. Looking at his face in the dirty mirror above the sink, he could already see its toll on him.

He and Dean hadn't stopped to wash up before leaving the Roadhouse and his clothes and hands were still stained with dirt from their last job. There were still splotches of dirt of his face and he swiped at them with a wet rag, deciding to shower later.

He found his brother downstairs in the kitchen, sitting at the old table with a beer in his hand, staring at nothing in particular. The place was a wreck, but Sam wasn't sure how much was Dean's doing and how much had been caused by the Toclafane attack.

He hesitated before approaching Dean. He'd gotten himself punched in the face more than once trying to get through Dean's grief, so he was more cautious this time as he sat down at the table.

"…Dean?"

Dean grunted and took another swig of his beer, but didn't say anything.

Sam sighed, "Dean, we, uh… we should…" he wasn't sure how to say it, but Dean surprised him, suddenly standing and tossing the empty bottle into the trash.

"We should move the body," he said, "Can't leave 'im up there like that. Then we should head into town, see if anyone's alive. Try to get a call in to Jo and Ellen, let them know what happened, find out if Ash learned anything new…"

"…Yeah," Sam frowned, not getting up as Dean headed toward the stairs again.

"You comin' or am I gonna have to bury him myself?" Dean's voice was hard and Sam shook his head, standing.

"No, uh, Dean are you sure you're –"

"Don't, Sam," Dean cut him off, eyes going dark for a second, "Don't."

Sam knew that tone and nodded heavily, "Alright, fine, but Dean, you gotta promise me something…"

"What?"

Sam studied him for a long moment and looked him in the eye, "Promise me you aren't gonna pretend to be fine this time. In case you forgot, that didn't work out so well for us and I don't think drinking 'til you punch something is exactly healthy."

"Because you'd know all about the healthy methods of grief, huh, Sammy?"

"Dean…"

"Fine," Dean cut him off, scowling, "Alright? Fine. But let's not talk about this now. Let's just… focus on what we gotta do and we can deal with… _this…_ later."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The desert sun was unrelenting as the two soldiers made their way to the village. There were bodies slumped inside doorways and strewn across the streets, thick red blood mingling with the desert sand. John spotted a few lizards curiously climbing over bodies. The entire place was dead silent and John was beginning to think that there hadn't been a single survivor here at all when they heard faint voices.

Jake hefted his gun toward the sound, only flinching a bit at the weight on his injured hand. They were, after all, still in enemy territory – for all they knew those metal monsters had been some kind of weapon that had gone very wrong.

"Shh," Jake hissed, "Hear that?"

John nodded, eyes slowly turning toward the voices. He could just make out the shape of two people walking slowly. They were close enough to hear their words, but they could hear the low tremble of the voices. One was a man and the other a woman, and John was almost certain he could hear a faint Welsh accent.

They were easing toward the figures when suddenly a male voice – speaking English with a very distinct accent – called out.

"Oi! You two!"

They froze and waited as the two strangers half jogged to reach them. They looked extremely out of place in the middle of this desert village of the dead. Definitely not soldiers, but both armed. The woman was out of breath a bit, but straightened her posture immediately at the sight of them.

"Soldiers," she said, eyeing them up and down. Her accent was _definitely _Welsh, John was sure of it. She glanced over at her companion, a shorter man who looked slightly annoyed and tired, but who was also eyeing them as if _they _were the oddities here.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked.

"Owen," the woman glared for a moment and shook her head, turning to face the still silent soldiers. "Sorry, we've had a… very long day. I'm Gwen Cooper, this is Owen Harper. And, uh… well, you wouldn't happen to know where we are, would you?"

Jake slowly lowered his gun and John did the same, eyeing them curiously, "You're in the middle of the Afghan desert," he said slowly.

"Afghan desert?" Owen's eyes got a bit wider, "Bloody fantastic," he muttered, "So what _did _happen here? Last I checked the Army wasn't killing civilians…"

"Wish we knew," John answered, "We were attacked, our entire unit's gone. There were these metal sphere things with razor blades…"

"Metal spheres?" Gwen raised a brow, "Some kind of weapon?"

"That's about as much as we can guess," Jake admitted, "Damn things were bullet proof though."

"And they talked," John added.

"Talked?" Owen frowned, "What do you mean they talked?"

"Didn't say a whole lot," Jake said, "But we could hear 'em. Real high pitched voice, like a kid's. One of them said something about escaping…" he glanced at John for confirmation and the man nodded.

"Running away from the dark,"

"And there are no other survivors?" Gwen glanced around the village, getting a bit sick. The bodies had been lying out in the sun for a few hours now and they were starting to bloat and the smell wasn't pleasant in the least.

"None that we've found yet," John shook his head, "Think a few of our guys took off, but we can't get a line through to anyone so we don't know if they're alive of not."

Gwen and Owen exchanged a long look. "Think this has something to do with Saxon and our Cyber-friend?"

"Definitely," Gwen nodded, frowning thoughtfully. She turned back to John and Jake, "Well, men, looks like we're on our own for right now. Got any ideas?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Martha looked around the cluttered Torchwood Hub in interest as Tosh fiddled with the laptop she had been carrying earlier. Ianto was standing by her side, staring at Martha and Sherlock with a bit of suspicion and unease. Martha couldn't blame the guy; two strangers just suddenly show up and say that they need help saving the world? Martha was certain if she hadn't mentioned Jack, she wouldn't have gotten in the door. What really sold Tosh, however, had been the mention of the Doctor.

Sherlock wasn't paying attention to Tosh, at least not apparently. He was gazing around the Hub with clinical eyes, taking in every single aspect of it and, presumably, cataloguing it all in the super computer that Martha had decided was his mind.

He hadn't said much before Martha wouldn't allow him to say anything if she thought he was about to say something rude. Purposeful or not, Martha had realized that Sherlock Holmes was a very cold person and after his remark about Torchwood not being competent enough without Jack leading them, she'd begun to cut him off ever chance possible.

Sherlock was not amused, but eventually learned to keep his thoughts to himself. For the most part anyway.

"Here it is," Tosh suddenly announced, turning the screen so that Martha and Sherlock could watch. It was Harold Saxon's address to the UK. He started off all smiles and mocking, and Martha was horrified to hear all the people that had already been killed. He'd even taken out the Royal family! And he was joking about it with a huge grin on his face, promising that there was more to come if the people of the planet didn't bow down to him.

Tosh watched with a wrinkled nose, "I can't believe I voted for him…"

Martha sighed, "Don't blame yourself," she said, "According to the Doctor, he used some kind of telepathic hypnosis with the Archangel network…"

"Good thing the Hub doesn't use Archangel," Tosh said, frowning at the screen, "Some of our communications are tied in to it, but we're pretty independent. Have to be, really."

"You said this Master character has Jack?" Ianto asked, glancing at Martha.

"Yeah," Martha sighed, "He's got Jack, the Doctor and my whole family…"

"And he likely already knows that there is a plan in motion to stop him," Sherlock said, "He isn't going to stop until he finds out what it is."

"I know," Martha sighed.

"Our advantage at the moment is that he believes Torchwood to be taken care of. The second he realizes that you and your teammates, wherever they are, are alive, we lose that advantage. We need to give him something to chase."

"Something to chase?" Ianto frowned, raising a brow.

"A false trail, make him think the plan is one thing and lead him on for as long as possible."

"Sounds good to me," Martha leaned against the desk, Saxon's voice still going in the background, reading off names. She heard a few familiar ones – her own and her brother's among them – but for the most part the list was entirely government and religious leaders.

"But how do we do it?" Tosh asked, "If the Master is as smart as you think, he won't be easy to fool."

"No, but –" Sherlock stopped, frowning as a hissing, cackling sound alerted them to an old radio that was set up on Tosh's cluttered computer desks. Only bits of words were making it through, but Tosh rushed to it and pulled the handset from the radio, fiddling with the dial for a moment before it came in clearer.

It was a woman's voice, speaking a series of numbers and letters that Tosh recognized as a UNIT code, followed by four names. _"Gwen Cooper, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, Ianto Jones. This UNIT employee 43919_73, _Kate Lethbridge-Stewart. Torchwood Three, can you respond?"_

Tosh's eyes were wide as glanced toward them, "This is Toshiko Sato," she said into the speaker, "And Ianto Jones."

_"Thank God! Toshiko, is Martha Jones with you?"_

Tosh glanced up at Martha and passed her the handheld speaker. Martha gripped it uncertainly in her hands and pressed the button, "This is Martha Jones,"

_"Good, so you made it safely. Martha, my name is Kate Lethbridge-Stewart. You don't know me, but my father was a very close friend of the Doctor's and I'm told you've traveled with him."_

"I have…"

_"Martha…" _Kate's voice cracked a bit in the speakers, _"I've just spoken to Mycroft Holmes. I think I may be able to help you. Is the Torchwood Three base secure?"_

"Yeah," Martha nodded, "It is for now. The Master thinks he's wiped out Torchwood."

_"I'm on my way to Cardiff. It may take me a day, but wait for me there."_

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Sioux Falls was a veritable ghost town when Sam and Dean drove in. They'd given Bobby a proper Hunter's funeral, wrapping him in sheets and building the pyre out back of his house. Sam was hit with an unnerving sense of déjà vu while they watched the flames burn on the corpse of their old friend. He could still remember coming to Salvage Yard as a kid and Dean practically jumping up and down to help Uncle Bobby fix his cars while Sam poured over the giant, ancient tomes Bobby kept in his house.

They stood there over Bobby's burning body for what felt like a lifetime before the fire died out and they buried what was left of him. They took showers and cleaned up, Dean grabbing a beer before they headed into town.

Sam eyed the drink anxiously, but it was only the second Dean had had so far and he didn't say anything to him. The people in the town had been busy, Sam could tell that much. They were already burying the bodies of loved ones in the cemetery. There only seemed to be a handful of people left alive and most of them were in shock.

They parked the Impala near a sidewalk and climbed out, looking around for anyone. They'd never really spent much time in Sioux Falls. Every time they were there, they were at Bobby's and if anyone went into town it was Bobby or their father so they only knew of the town in passing through it.

"Hey," Dean suddenly grabbed Sam's shoulder and spun him around, "Sheriff over there," he nodded to the woman who was still in her uniform, "Let's go see what she knows…"

She was standing near the cemetery, hands on her hips, hair tugged back into a ponytail, watching while the residents of the town buried loved ones.

Dean cleared his throat, "Excuse us, Sheriff…?"

She spun around and frowned when she caught sight of the two of them, "Who are you?" she demanded, one hand instinctively traveling to her gun.

"Whoa, whoa," Dean held his hands up and shook his head, "Um, I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam. We're… we're Bobby's nephews…"

She paused and raised a brow, "I didn't know Bobby had any nephews,"

"Well, he, uh," Sam cleared his throat, stepping forward, "He was kinda private, I guess,"

She snorted a bit and shook her head, "So you boys came in to check on him?"

"Yeah," Sam's face fell a bit and the woman sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, holding out her hand, "Sheriff Jody Mills."

Sam took her hand, forcing a smile, "Lost a lot of people, I guess…"

"Yeah," she nodded, glancing back at the cemetery, "Don't think we have room for everyone, I just… I haven't been back to my house yet to get…" she choked a bit and Sam, noticing the ring on her finger nodded.

"Your husband…?"

"And my son," she said, voice cracking before she took a deep breath and shook her head. "But… these people need me so…"

Sam glanced over at Dean, "We could get your family for you," he said gently, "Take care of it, if you want…"

"No," she shook her head, "No, you don't have to do that."

"It's no trouble, really," Sam assured her, "We don't… don't really have anywhere else to go right now anyway."

Her smile was watery, but she shook her head again, "No, I'll get to it. I gotta do it myself. But, uh, you boys are welcome to stick around and help if you want…"

"We might just do that," Sam said, "Um, are your payphones working?"

"Yeah, go around the corner, the one on the left is still working."

"Thanks…"

As they walked away, Dean frowned, "We're gonna stick around and help?"

"Come on, Dean, these people need help right now. Jo and Ellen can cover the Roadhouse for now. We can't just not help."

"The best way to help these people is to find the son of bitch responsible and rip his head off,"

"Dean…"

"Fine," Dean grunted, "Fine. We'll stay. But only for a couple of days, got it?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Lucy and the guards led them into the large meeting room where it had all started. Everyone else on board had either been killed or was now forcibly in the Master's employment. The Master was standing in the middle of the elevated stage, twirling his laser screwdriver and grinning widely as they were herded in.

"Ah, my lovely prisoners!" the Master jumped down from the stage and grabbed Lucy, kissing her a bit roughly before releasing her and grinning at them. Lucy looked a bit stunned – the most emotion Jack as seen her display so far – but quickly recovered her deadpan face and started at her husband with awe in her eyes.

The Master circled the Jones family with a predatory smile on his face as he came up to Tish. He traced a line down her face with the tip of his screwdriver and Francine angrily tugged her daughter backwards, "Get away from her!" she snapped, eyes blazing.

Some of the fire left her eyes when he turned to face her, a smile still twisting his lips as he eyed the woman up and down.

"You have got some spirit in you, Francine," he said, "I think I like that."

Francine did her best to look angry, but she was shaking with terror as she gripped Tish's hand and held her back, trying to block the Master's view of her as he turned his gaze back to the young woman.

"You know, I really just don't know what to do with you lot…" he sighed dramatically, "But I think I can come up with some inventive uses for you. And if you get boring, well, I guess that's that. …Take the parents back to the cells."

Francine and Clive didn't go as willingly this time, not even with the guns probing into their backs. Francine screamed curses and swears the entire time and Jack could still hear her screaming all the way down the hall, her voice growing fainter as they went deeper into the ship.

Grinning that feral grin, he turned to Lucy again, "Have them bring in the Doctor and his other pet," he said, dismissing her quickly. There were three guards in the room with them and Jack watched the Master closely as he circled Tish once more. He moved to stand in his way and two of the guards dragged him back, pinning his arms.

"Don't touch her," Jack hissed, glaring hatefully at the man. The Master eyed him for a second and then, without warning, shot Jack where he stood. He went limp in the guards' arms and Tish screamed, covering her mouth in horror as the guards released the now dead body.

"Now, as for this one…" he idly twirled the screwdriver, "Take her to the back rooms. I'll be there in a few hours. Lucy, be a dear and accompany her." He added the last part as Lucy re-entered the room with Reid and the Doctor.

Without question Lucy followed the guard that took Tish away. The Master watched them go with a grin before practically skipping back to the stage and sitting on its edge, "You can throw the Doctor on the floor next to the freak," he said, "I want Spencer up here with me."

The guard holding the Doctor released him and the Doctor stumbled a bit and kneeled back Jack's side, looking up at the Master with something that looked very much like hate in his eyes. The Master appeared unbothered as the other guard dragged Reid, who was digging his heels into the ground, toward him.

"No, not there," he shook his head when the guard started to place him on the stage. "On the ground. At my feet."

Reid gave the man a cold glare as he was shoved to the ground, his back against the stage. The Master's legs dangled a bit on either side of his head and he immediately felt his fingers in his hair and fought not to cringe at the way that made him want to throw up.

The Doctor eyed the scene with fear and anger, "Master, just let them go. This isn't about them,"

"Of course it is!" The Master grinned and shook his head, "This is _entirely _about them. Humans. I never understood why you loved them so much. They're stupid, reckless, hairless apes. Yet you seem to stare at them in awe. They're a waste of a species, Doctor, you know that. All I'm doing is putting them in their place."

"They aren't going to give up their planet, Master, not without a fight," the Doctor warned him.

"I know!" The Master grinned, "That's what makes this so much fun. The more they fight, the more they suffer. It's glorious, isn't it? Isn't it glorious?"

The Doctor glanced down at Jack as he gasped and grimaced, surging painfully back to life once more. The Master cocked his head to the side and smiled, "That will never get old," he said brightly. His eyes sparkled, "Think of all the things I can do to him, Doctor, and he'll never die! I can kill him over and over and over. And I will. I'll make you watch."

Suddenly he gripped Reid's hair tight and yanked, causing the agent to hiss in pain, "I'll rip them all to pieces, right in front of you and you won't be able to stop me. Unless you tell me what your plan is. I'm not an idiot, Doctor, I know you told Martha to do something. What. Did. You. Tell. Her?"

With each word he tugged a bit harder on Spencer's hair until tears were pricking at his eyes and the Doctor stared at him, guilt welling up inside of him.

"There isn't a plan," he insisted.

The Master sighed, "If that's the way you want to play this game…" he sounded almost regretful, the light in his eyes at the sounds of their screams and the Doctor's pleading said otherwise. Even down in the cells, Francine and Clive could hear the screams and Tish huddled anxiously in a room alone – except for Lucy Saxon – with her hands over her ears to block out the sounds as the echoed through the halls of the _Valiant._

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

And that was how it all began, the worst day in Earth's history that gave way to even more bloodshed. Everyone lost someone, no one was safe. The death toll continued to rise.

Teresa Lisbon finally managed to get through to her brother's apartment, only to find out that her brothers and her niece were dead and Tommy's wife was the only survivor. Wayne Rigsby eventually found out that his father had been killed and couldn't find it in him to be too upset about that fact. In total, the CBI had been knocked down by over one third of their agents and the Attorney General's body was discovered twenty-four hours after the initial attack. Sam Bosco's entire team had been killed while on a raid that night and they all feared that Minelli wouldn't live much longer with his name on that list.

NCIS was hit even hard, missing nearly a half of their agents and damn lucky their director made it out of the initial attack alive. During their search parties they found the bodies of more and more agents. Agent Leon Vance's body was found in the parking garage, empty gun in his hand. Anthony DiNozzo Sr.'s death wasn't discovered for nearly two days because of poor communication. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs discovered his father's death several hours after Harold Saxon's initial broadcast and Timothy McGee received the call informing him of his sister, Sarah's, death by dawn the following morning.

There was never a fixed number of how hard UNIT was hit. Too many bodies were never recovered and too many agents went underground. The initial numbers held at nearly two thirds, but there is no solid answer.

The FBI took, by far, the smallest hit from the Toclafane attacks and still found themselves down by over a fourth of their agents. The departments melded together, getting the most vulnerable agents into Safe Houses as soon as possible. Once they'd taken care of the bodies in their lobby, they began helping the rest of Quantico. It was truly a nightmare to find places for all the bodies and in the end the only solution was mass graves.

Like the scenes out of a horror film, body after body was lowered into the pits, men, women and children alike being buried together while family members look on with tears. Hopelessness hung in the air over the entire globe, mingling with a bitter hate for the man who'd brought this tragedy on them.

And this was only the beginning. There were more tears, more pain and more loss to come in what would one day become known, to those who remembered it, the Year of Hell.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Frankly, I'm amazed that this chapter is shorter than last chapter. And I really don't know what to say about it… I hope you guys enjoyed it though!

Oh, and for those of you who might not know, Kate Lethbridge-Stewart is the daughter of the Brigadier from the classic era Doctor Who. While I haven't seen any episodes with the Brigadier I know OF him because of friends who have. Originally, the UNIT contact was going to be the UNIT leader from "The Sontaran Stratagem", but after Kate's introduction in "The Power of Three" Saturday, I couldn't resist including her, it was just too perfect.

As for Grace Holloway, she is the doctor who is the "companion" from the Doctor Who movie (with the 8th Doctor) and I didn't intend to include her, but after a suggestion from **KMW1968** I decided to. (I do love her character and she was in San Francisco at the time; I moved her to Sacramento because it's been about 10 years since she met the Doctor for her. A lot changes).

I'd also like to thank **KMW1968 **for the idea of having the Master go after former companions and friends of the Doctor (those such as Grace Holloway. There are others, which you will see soon).

Also, I originally said that this was set around the time Dean tells Sam about his "destiny". It's going to have to be before that, I realized. If it was around that time, Gordon would have tried to shoot Sam on the spot, so at this point, for SPN, it's while Dean's still keeping that secret from Sam. Just a quick FYI.

Also… glad to finally sneak some Rossi in there. He will come up in a bigger part in the next chapter. And I have a question for any Supernatural fans…: Henricksen. Include him or not? He was in the FBI and I'm planning to have Fornell (NCIS) show up soon, possibly with Henricksen. I dunno though.

Anyways. Sorry for the long A/N. And the wait. This chapter was murder to write. Hope you enjoyed! Please review!


	11. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter Six

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **So, to start off I'm sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It was a real pain to write, I've got to admit, not to mention hard to find _time _to write given all the stupid, stupid things I've got to put ahead of writing fanfictions lately. It's fairly long, though, so hopefully the wait was well worth it.

Second, and as always, huge thanks to everyone for the reviews! You're all fantastically amazing and I really appreciate your support! Of course, thanks also to those of you following this and for everyone who has added it to their favorites :D

Now, I'd like to make it known that this story is going to be (and already is) all kinds of complicated (heh, just like real Doctor Who!) and only seems to get more tangled and messy the more I write. That's probably due to the seven fandoms I've managed to cram into this thing. Still. Because this story takes place over the course of an entire year, each chapter is basically me writing about seven separate mini-episodes for each respective fandom (hence the length of chapters and the wait for updates) so I appreciate your patience while I muddle through the tangled world of this insanity and try to make feasible, coherent plotlines from the mess in my head.

Anyway, sorry for the long note. I'll shut up now and let you get on to the story…

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

The first month after the Master's upheaval of any and all forms of government was the most difficult for the people of earth. By the end of his first month as "Lord and Master", he had established his massive weapons factories and shut down nearly every other form of commerce. Anyone too young, old or weak to work had been delegated to other more menial tasks. Very few were lucky enough to have escaped the labor camps and most compared the Master's reign to that of Hitler, but not even Adolf Hitler had accomplished such wide scale destruction and horror.

In the first few weeks after what had come to be known as the Decimation – estimates were still uncertain but most numbers appeared to agree that roughly ten percent of the entire population had been killed – it became clear what the Master wanted from military, law enforcement and medical personnel. While most people weren't permitted to travel and became confined to whatever region or camp they worked in, law enforcement and doctors were given passes that allowed them to move around.

Doctors were by far the most necessary at the beginning, healing and tending to those who had been injured but not killed in the initial attacks. Law enforcement and military however, were a bit more selective. Many had already gone underground and organizations like the FBI and UNIT were vehemently opposing surrender and more than a few agents were killed in attempts to quell the rebellion. Those unlucky enough to have family members alive were threatened into service and many others were threatened with their own lives as well.

Eventually, despite the resistance, they all fell under the Master's power and anyone who hadn't fled to one of the many underground safe houses became part of the Master's standing army. Unwilling though most of them were, they were also terrified and desperate with family member's lives on the line and no hope of taking on the Master.

The "Most Wanted" list was broadcast every single day. Names were missing each time it was announced, but new names also cropped up on a regular basis. No one knew for sure what he did with the people on the list, but it was a safe bet that they were all killed. Some, especially the powerful political members, were executed on live television to send a message to the masses.

There had already been one assassination attempt by a handful of the UNIT soldiers onboard the _Valiant_. They had all been killed while the rest of the world watched on in terror and disgust. The Master seemed to enjoy forcing everyone to watch him torture and kill people and flaunted the failed attempt with gleefulness. Rumors began to spread that he really was unkillable, but small factions still held out hope for assassination.

Aside from the occasional public murder, the Master also delighted in weekly broadcasts featuring the captive members on the _Valiant_. In an attempt to force the fugitive Martha Jones into surrender, every week he would choose a different prisoner to torture. A young man named Spencer Reid, another man the world watched die over and over in shock called Jack Harkness and a man the Master only called the Doctor were often the targets. The Master claimed that the Doctor too was an alien from the same planet as he was and the amount of torture the man was forced to bear seemed frighteningly impossible.

Whenever he wasn't torturing those three, however, members of Martha Jones' own family frequently found their way into the broadcasts. Less often, perhaps, but still brutally tortured nonetheless. Most familiar to the world was the face of Letitia Jones, who the Master seemed to have taken a liking to. Francine and Clive Jones were also featured and during the third week, Leo Jones – who had been turned over to the Master shortly after the broadcast – was killed while his parents and sister watched.

Still, Martha Jones remained nothing more than a whisper to the Master. A whisper that rippled through the population with hope. People who'd met her talked about a brave and brilliant young woman with a plan to stop the Master once and for all. Rumors of her travels soon spread far past the Eurasian continent and throughout the entire world people were talking about Martha Jones. Despite his best efforts, however, the Master had yet to find out what her plan was to stop him.

Early in their imprisonment, there had been escape attempts – usually led by Jack, but planned by the Doctor – and the Master eventually moved Jack from the cells and into the lower sections of the ship, taking care to have him chained up constantly. The Joneses, who had been forced into servitude aboard the ship, had been relegated to a small room with barred doors and Spencer and the Doctor were often kept in the _Valiant_'s main conference room under heavy guard.

They were fed twice a day, small meals of bland and tasteless slop. Only enough to keep them alive, and this week Jack wasn't been fed at all. The Master wanted to see how long it would take him to die of starvation.

This morning, the Master entered the conference room dressed in a crisp suit, grinning from ear to ear, whistling a tune merrily with Lucy at his side. Reid watched Lucy as she moved rigidly, every step stiff and a bit awkward. Her eyes were a bit glazed over and she didn't appear to really be looking at anything at all. Spencer had been noticing the signs of abuse for the past week or so, but Lucy never said anything and sometimes he could still see that adoring light in her eyes as she gazed at her husband.

"Good morning, captives!" the Master beamed down at the Doctor and Reid where they'd slept on the floor. They'd been given blankets and two thin pillows but that was about as much comfort as they were allowed and Reid was especially aching after several nights spent on the hard floors.

Neither of them said anything as the Master stopped in front of them, twirling his screwdriver between his fingers. His eyes were bright and Reid had a bad feeling that something was very wrong judging by the way the man's eyes were lit with joy. The last time he'd looked that happy had been when he informed the Doctor of the death of Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart and the capture of Leo Jones.

The Doctor seemed to sense that bad news was coming as well as he shifted up and leaned his head against the wall. He was pale and even thinner than he had been before. He'd been stripped of his trench coat and suit jacket and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal nasty bruises on his wrists from being hung from the ceiling with metal cuffs a few nights earlier.

"I've got some good news Doctor!"

The Doctor's heart practically skipped a beat in his chest as he stared up at the man.

"We've been hearing a bit of chatter lately about a friend of yours… Maybe you remember him? Harry Sullivan? Hmm, ring any bells?"

Judging from the look on the Doctor's face that name was familiar to him and Reid winced at the rage he saw in the Doctor's eyes as the Master grinned at him. "What did you do?" he snarled, leaning forward. It would have been far more threatening if he hadn't looked so completely exhausted.

"Me? I didn't do anything!" the Master mocked innocence, eyes still sparkling, "If it's any consolation, Doctor, it was a quick death. And even better, we're very close to finding Dr. Holloway. You remember her, don't you? Lovely woman. Enjoyed the opera, didn't she?"

The Master suddenly belted out a loud, long tune and bowed theatrically, beaming from ear to ear. "And rest assured, Spencer, I will find your little teammates and… you too."

Reid didn't respond, but inside he was sighing in relief. He was dreading the Master walking in one morning and announcing that he'd killed Hotch or Morgan or Prentiss. Although, after the first week he had been delighted to inform Spencer of Diana Reid and Jennifer Jareau's deaths. Some part of him clung to the hope that his mother was still alive, but then the Master had shown him pictures of her body.

Their only hope now was Martha. It had taken a few days for the Doctor to fully explain what he had told Martha to do – Reid still wasn't sure he entirely understood it to be honest, but according to the Doctor, if it all went as it was planned then they could erase all of this nightmare. It all hinged on whether or not Martha could get the message out fast enough and avoid capture.

So far, she'd done so brilliantly. Which the Doctor seemed to enjoy pointing out despite how angry it made the Master.

A tiny smirk lit the Time Lord's pale, gaunt face as he stared up at his adversary, "But you haven't found Martha,"

The Master's smile fell and his eyes darkened, "But I will," he assured him, "And when I do, I'll make sure you get front row seats to her death!" He let out another deranged chuckle and whirled around, practically skipping to the large throne he'd had set up on the stage.

"Now," he announced loudly, "What shall we do today? There's just so much… I'm almost getting bored with the screams, honestly. …Almost."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Dean gasped and grimaced, biting down on his lower lip to distract himself while Sam stitched up a gash on his arm.

"Damn it," Dean hissed, "Hurry up, would ya, Sammy? I'm bleeding all over the place here,"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Shut up and stop whining," he muttered, "It's your fault you're hurt anyway."

The two of them hadn't had the best of months lately and given what their months were usually like, that was really saying something. They'd left Sioux Falls after two and a half days. Dean had refused to stay any longer and things were starting to heat up with the new Master/Dictator putting his system in place.

It took them over a day just to get back to the Roadhouse, having to dodge Toclafane and take back roads to avoid being spotted by anyone who would decide to turn them in. By the time they got to the old bar they'd luckily escaped the Toclafane sweep of the area, but the Roadhouse was also almost entirely empty.

A few Hunters who'd also been lucky enough to be gone while the Toclafane came were still there: Gordon Walker, an old hunting buddy of their father's named Martin Creaser, a tall, skinny man named Garth, and an older black man sitting in a corner eyeing everyone with distain and suspicion (Martin told them that his name was Rufus Turner). Ellen and Jo hadn't been so lucky having maintained a constant post in the bar. They did manage to hide Ash, fortunately. He was in his room in the back when Sam and Dean showed up, packing his computer equipment up and talking too fast about getting the hell out of there.

It had taken them all nearly half a day to get Ash's equipment secured and then they moved to an underground shelter that Rufus had built years ago for just such an occasion. Luckily for them, the old hunter's paranoia had paid off and his concrete-lined bomb shelter was large enough to house about fifteen to twenty people and Rufus had it stocked with food and water.

Generally, hunters were wary to trust or work with other hunters, especially ones they didn't know, but in this case they had no choice and they all agreed that working together was all that they could do.

Early on they learned that keeping Dean and Gordon separated was a good idea – Gordon had enough good sense to focus on survival rather than revenge, but he was quick to get pissed off whenever Dean said anything smartass or even remotely sarcastic which, because it was Dean, was often. Sam and Martin were generally the peacemakers whenever any fights broke out and if that didn't work, Rufus would threaten to blow their heads off.

Sam questioned how Garth even survived as a hunter at all. He was not only young and exceptionally uncoordinated, but he was easily distracted and a little bit naïve at times. Nothing like any hunter they'd ever met before.

They went on runs once every couple of weeks, trying to find the camp where Ellen and Jo were and gathering information. It was slow going, but it was something. They never left the shelter alone and Ash never even left the shelter at all. They all agreed that as their best shot at cracking Archangel, Ash should be kept as far away from danger as possible.

After the first couple of weeks, they began to run into other groups like theirs. Small groups of ten to twenty people hiding in underground shelters and abandoned houses. Sometimes it was hunters, sometimes civilians. A few times they'd run into cops who'd went underground during the Decimation, but not often. Toclafane patrolled most of the areas around the labor camps and factories, not to mention the cops and soldiers who'd been forced into the Master's service.

All in all, they weren't making much headway, but they keep at it. Staying out of the Master's radar and helping the other safe houses was about all they could, but at least it was something. They'd been out on one of their runs when they'd been spotted by a couple of Toclafane and now they found themselves squatting in an old warehouse, Dean's blood dripping on the floor while Sam stitched up a gash on his arm from one of the Toclafane.

They'd driven as far as Minnesota hearing rumors of a safe house that was nearly fifty head strong and harboring several FBI agents, but so far they hadn't had any luck finding it and Dean was getting frustrated with no results to speak of.

"Ugh," he tugged his sleeve down as Sam finished, "This bites, dude. We've been here two days and so far we've got diddly-squat to show for it, Man. Maybe Ash's info was off."

Sam snorted, "Has it ever been wrong before?"

Dean frowned, "Whatever, let's just keep moving, alright? Before those bastards come back." He reached over and snatched their duffle bag, slinging it over his uninjured arm. He was halfway to the exit when they heard the faint trilling and they froze. The ringing continued for about thirty seconds before they realized that it was coming from the duffle bag.

"What the hell?"

"It's a cell phone," Dean threw the bag down, riffling through it. "I thought we ditched all of our phones?"

"We did," Sam said, "Back at the Roadhouse a month ago. Jo trashed 'em for us before we even left for Sioux Falls the first time."

"Well we obviously missed – It's Dad's! I totally forgot we kept this," he tugged the beaten up phone – still ringing – from the pockets and gave Sam a wary look. The caller ID was blinking the initials "K.M." but nothing else.

"K.M.? Do you remember anyone with those initials?"

"Not that I remember," Sam frowned, "Should we answer it?"

Dean hesitated, "Should be safe enough…" he flipped it open and cautiously held it to his ear, "…Hello?"

_"Thank God!" _the voice on the other end was male and young, Dean could tell that much, but he had never heard it before in his life. _"I thought you might be dead… A-After Mom…"_

"Sorry, kid, hang on," Dean cut him off, "Who is this?"

_"It's Adam…" _the kid said, _"Wait, who's this?"_

"…Dean Winchester," Dean answered, "Mind tellin' me how you go this number, Adam?"

_"Winchester…" _Adam breathed, _"Your name's Winchester?"_

"Yeah," Dean frowned, "I repeat: How did you get this number?"

_"You're related to John Winchester right? Is he alive? Did he…? I mean… Is he okay?"_

Dean's breathing hitched a bit at his dad's name, eyes darting to Sam and then down toward the floor, "Kid, I swear to God, if you don't answer my question I'm hanging up. Hasn't anyone told you how dangerous cell phones are these days?"

_"Sorry…" _Adam didn't sound very sorry, but he did sound anxious and terrified, _"It's just… John's my dad."_

Dean froze, "What?"

_"John Winchester. He's my dad."_

"That is not possible,"

_"Did you know him? Is he -?"_

"John's dead," Dean spurted the words out with a harsh scowl, "And I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but it's not working."

_"Game? Th-This isn't a game! John's… My dad's dead?"_

"No," Dean's voice a low growl and Sam edged a bit closer to his brother, sensing that he was nearly ready to explode, "_My _dad is dead. I don't know who the hell you think you are –"

Sam could practically feel the fury rolling off Dead and snatched the phone from him, ignoring his brother's outraged "What the Hell!" and turning slightly away from him, putting the phone to his ear in time to hear the young male voice saying "_…John's son!"_

"What about John's son?"

Adam sounded exasperated, _"Look, I don't have much time, alright. I just… wanted to know if my dad was alive."_

"Who's your dad, kid?"

_"John! John Winchester!"_

Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head, but he kept his cool better than Dean had, "John Winchester? He's your father?"

_"Yes!"_

He hesitated and frowned, "…How old are you?"

_"What does that have to do with -?"_

"Just answer the question,"

_"Seventeen… Look, just… are you really John's kid? My – my brother?"_

Sam fidgeted and frowned, "Yeah, look, Kid, do me a favor, alright? I don't want to talk on this line. Get to a payphone, a landline, anything but a cellphone. I'll give you a number to call…"

Adam didn't want to hang up, not at first, but Sam eventually convinced him that they'd already been risking too much staying on the line as long as they had. As soon as the kid hung up, Sam smashed their dad's old phone into the ground and turned to face Dean.

"…Dean –"

"No," Dean shook his head, hands shaking. "Sam, don't even think about it."

"We gotta at least check this out, Dean,"

"It's a trap, Sam. No way,"

"Dean! Come on, we can't just… I'm not saying trust the kid, I'm saying… I'm saying don't cut the kid off. What if he's telling the truth? It's possible, isn't it?"

"No way in Hell,"

"Dean," Sam sighed and shook his head. "Come on, we both know it could happen. We at least have to hear what the kid has to say, right?"

"No, we don't. What we have to do is find that safe house and that's it. We are not stopping to take some detour into crazy town, Sammy. No,"

Sam was getting just a little bit tired of humoring Dean for the past month, letting his brother burry himself in the jobs, the survival. Not bothering to point out the dangerous downward spiral he seemed to be on at the moment. The makeshift phone that Ash has fixed up for them began beeping and Sam snagged it before Dean could.

"Don't you answer that Sam!"

Sam ignored him and pressed the button, giving Dean a meaningful look as he turned his back on him. "Adam?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Patrick Jane was not a happy man. For the past month he had been confined to an underground shelter, unhappily not permitted to leave the premises under any circumstances. Jane was not a man who enjoyed being confined to one space for too long. And to make matters worse, he hadn't seen Lisbon for over a month.

Lying on the small couch in the old warehouse, Jane huffed in annoyance and thought back to the last time he'd seen the woman.

_"No," Teresa said, frowning at them, "We get Jane out of here first. I'll find Minelli. If those things are coming back, we need to get him to safety."_

_"But, Boss –"_

_"Now Rigsby!" Lisbon snapped, glaring at him. "You and Van Pelt take Jane and Dr. Holloway. Get the kids and find somewhere to hide them. If you have time, come back here. We don't have time to argue right now!"_

Rigsby hadn't been happy to leave Lisbon behind and Jane had been even less enthused, trying to convince them to let him stay. But Minelli – who had insisted on going out with search parties a few hours after the broadcast – had gone missing and they were getting word that the Master had sent another wave of Toclafane to subdue everyone and discourage running. Lisbon and the others took control, getting the children and non-agents out of the building and to safety.

That had been a month ago and Lisbon had never made it to the safe house. A few of the other agents and cops had made it to the safe house, but none knew what had happened to Lisbon. It was almost a week later that they heard the news of Minelli's death. Other agents had been forced into working for the Master and Jane could only hope that Lisbon was with them and not dead.

Most of Jane's time was spent with the kids that were with them. Many of the children's parents hadn't made it to safety and he entertained them with stories and magic tricks while the others were busy.

"Thinking again?" Grace Holloway sat down in a chair next to him, frowning. He grunted in response but didn't say anything and the doctor sighed. "They'll find her, Patrick. You've got to stop worrying about it."

"I'm not worried," Jane told her, "There's nothing to worry about. Either Lisbon has been forced into working for an inhuman, overlord or she's been killed. What's to worry about?"

Dr. Holloway sighed, "Patrick," she started to say something and then seemed to think better of it. "Maybe Wayne and Grace heard something while they were out. Think positive."

Van Pelt, Rigsby and most of the other agents that were in the house went out on weekly food runs that usually meant stealing food from nearby camps and stores and getting more information from the others. They didn't have a television in the house, but they were still able to keep up with what was going on by connecting with other safe houses in the area and sometimes being able to watch broadcasts on stolen laptops.

He let out another huff and rolled over onto his side. He was growing more and more restless having to stay in the small little place. Dr. Holloway stood and shook her head, leaving him alone to go back into the room that she and two other women in the house shared.

"Hey, Jane!" Rigsby, Van Pelt and an FBI agent named Craig entered the building about an hour later and Rigsby made his way to the blond man with wide, anxious eyes. "We might have found Lisbon."

Jane sat up straight, eyes widen as the other man sat across from him. "We don't know for sure, but we heard something about her in Pasadena," he said, "Tomorrow night Craig and I are going to check it out…"

"I'm going with you," Jane said.

"Told you," Van Pelt said, giving Rigsby a meaningful look, "He isn't going to let you do this without him, Wayne."

"Look, Jane, I know you wanna go but it's dangerous –"

"I'm going with you," Jane repeated, "If you're going to try and find Lisbon I want to be there."

"Patrick," Craig shook his head, "You don't even know how to use a gun. How are you gonna defend yourself if we run into trouble?"

"Please," Jane waved his hand, "Shooting a gun is simple. You just point and pull the trigger. A monkey could do it."

While Craig frowned at the comment, trying to decide if he should be offended by that statement or not, Rigsby leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, shaking his head, "Look, O'Laughlin's right Jane. You shouldn't be out there. It's dangerous."

"Put a gun in my hand if you must," Jane said, "If you're going to find Lisbon I'm going with you."

"Jane –"

"I can teach him to shoot," Van Pelt suggested, "Take him into the back room and let him shoot blanks. At least then he'd know the basics, right?"

"See! Grace, you're brilliant."

The redhead smiled a bit, but Rigsby looked uncertain, "I don't know, Jane, one night of training –"

"It'll be fine," Jane assured him, "So that's settled. Tomorrow night I'm going with you."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Martha's eyes were on the sky as she ducked into an alleyway to avoid a pair of Toclafane whirring by. They were becoming more and more common these days and she'd already witnessed more deaths than she could possibly care to count. She was in London. First time since the Decimation. She'd spent the past month travelling along an Underground Railroad of sorts. Safe houses had been set up from Cardiff and all across Europe. She'd heard that they were all over the world, but she'd yet to get very far.

It was slow travelling, not using the Vortex Manipulator. After landing with Sherlock near the Torchwood Hub she'd promised herself to only use it when absolutely necessary. It had taken her a couple of days to feel right again after not using the device.

She'd spent almost a week in Cardiff with Tosh, Ianto and Sherlock. Kate Lethbridge-Stewart had shown up, as promised, two days after the Decimation. She had been a bit battered, but with her help they managed to manufacture a nearly perfect, albeit entirely false, plan of assassination and working together, they'd managed to build a "weapon" that, however useless it really was, would hopefully throw the Master off of the actual plan.

Kate had taken half the gun with her to scatter the pieces and help spread the story, while Sherlock headed back to London with the other half of the gun, assuring Martha that he too would get the pieces where they needed to be.

Martha had never felt quite so alone as when Sherlock left. The two of them had spent the better part of two weeks together coming up with plans and quipping together. Of course, leaving Torchwood had also been difficult. For the few days she'd spent with Tosh, Ianto and Kate she had felt that her real mission was on hold. The second she abandoned the Hub, the weight of the entire world had seemed to fall on her shoulders and there had been no one there to take it off.

Returning to London made her want to find Sherlock, if he were still alive. She hadn't heard news to the contrary, but she seemed to always get the news of friends' deaths days after they'd happened. It was three days before they heard about Mycroft's death… She avoided watching the Master's broadcasts whenever possible whenever he'd killed her brother live. For two days she'd stayed in a state of depression, but Sherlock had snapped her out of it.

Word of her exploits were spreading across the continent and, possibly, even the world. That was good though, Martha reckoned, because that meant that people were at least able to hold on to some form of hope. And judging from the Master's furious campaign of live torture and public murder, he still had no idea of her mission.

London was desolate. Nothing like the London she remembered. There were no crowds, no busses, no cabs. Shops were all closed, their windows – if they weren't broken – darkened. It looked every bit the sad dystopia that it had become.

This time of day, most people were at the camps after working all day in the factories that the Master had built leaving the streets almost entirely deserted except for the occasionally patrolling soldiers and the constant floating Toclafane. She waited as the Toclafane passed and made a run for it towards a large office building. Three taps on the back door and a whispered password – "Freedom" – got her inside where she was soon greeted by about twenty faces.

She had done this several times by now. Though this was technically one of the "camps" that people were forced to live in communally, she could almost always rely of them not turning her in. The man who answered the door was eyeing her with a mixture of awe and trepidation. She was still getting used to the way people seemed to cling to her as a symbol of hope; it was a bit unsettling for her.

"You're really her," he whispered, "Martha Jones."

She smiled a bit, shrugging with her pack on her shoulders, "I'm really her," she said.

The man let out a shaky breath and beamed at her, grasping her hand in his own. It was rough and covered with shallow cuts and Martha winced at how angry that made her. "Right this way, Miss Jones," he said, leading her through the building and into a large cafeteria. Everyone was taking their seats at plastic tables, eating what passed as food these days. Martha was outraged to see people even younger than she was there.

They offered to let her eat with them, but Martha just shook her head. She really wasn't in the mood to eat at the moment. She took a seat at a table near the back next to an older man and a few children. She guessed that the old man was one of the few who watched the children while everyone else was working in the factories. When she sat down, he was smiling brightly at a redheaded little girl and boy, telling them a story about a princess and a dragon.

"Hello," she smiled when she sat down and the kids all stopped listening to turn and stare at her.

One little boy, whose eyes were about the size of dinner plates, gaped at her. "You're that girl that the grown-ups talk about! The one that's gonna save us!" He couldn't have been more than six or seven and was missing a couple teeth in the front, making his voice lisp a bit.

Martha smiled, "Well, I dunno about that, but I'll do my best," she said, "My name's Martha. What's yours?"

All the children chimed in at once with answers of "Shelly!" "I'm Brandon!" "My name's Michael" "Dana" and the youngest little boy, Martha would've guessed maybe four years old, said "I'm called Quinn!" She beamed at all of them and turned to the old man, whose eyes were sparkling.

"What about you?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, Wilfred Mott, Miss Jones," he said brightly, "At your service."

She smiled at him, "Nice to meet you, Wilfred," she said, eyes scanning the children. "Do you sit here every day with them?"

"Oh yes," the redheaded girl, Shelly, answered quickly, "Wilf and Miss Daisy stay with us while our families are at the factories. Wilf tells us stories every day. He has lots of fun stories to tell! Sometimes at night Miss Donna tells us stories too."

"Who's Miss Donna?" Martha asked curiously.

"That's my granddaughter," Wilf answered, nodding to a redheaded woman who was talking to a couple of other women a few yards away. She was older than Martha and she looked tired, but something about her screamed energy and resilience. Martha couldn't hear what she was saying, but she could hear her voice. It carried a bit and if Martha had met her any other time she was sure the woman would've been the most exuberant person in any room.

"Miss Donna tells the bestest stories," Michael, the little boy who'd spoken to Martha earlier said, "She doesn't know any fairy tales. She tells us about this man –"

"The Doctor!" Dana, a little brunette girl chimed in, "That's what he's called. He's a Martian!"

"The Doctor?" Martha frowned, brows creasing.

"Mhm," Dana nodded, "He's got a blue box that can f_ly!"_

"But he's not from Mars," Shelly said, "Donna says he kept making sure to say that, but she don't know where he's really from."

Martha's heart was beating a bit too fast in her heart as the kids continued to explain to her about the man called the Doctor and his flying box. Wilf smiled a bit across from her, unaware of her racing thoughts.

"Don't know where she came up with that story," Wilf said, "Sometimes I think she believes herself. She goes on about him at night to help the kids sleep. Tells them he's a superhero."

"Like Superman!" little Quinn said excited.

"'Cept he don't wear a cape," Michael said, "But he's an alien just like Superman!"

Martha forced a shaky smile, nodding. "That's wonderful. Maybe Donna can tell me about him sometime, eh?" She swallowed roughly and stood from her seat, "'Scuse me,"

She hurried away from the table and made her way across the room to where Donna was standing and tapped the woman on the shoulder. "Donna?"

Donna blinked and the took in Martha's face, gasping, "It's you! That Jones woman that everyone talks about…"

Martha smiled bit, nodding, "Yeah, listen could I -?"

"You're a lot younger than I thought you'd be. Blimey, how old are you? Twenty-two?"

"Donna," one of the women hissed, "C'mon, she's practically trying to save the flippin' world by herself! Don't be rude."

"How was I being rude? I just said she was young, 'cos she is! Look at her! What on earth are you doing travelling around the entire flippin' country?"

Martha took a deep breath and shook her head, deciding the direct approach was probably the only way she'd ever get her question out. "The kids were telling me about the stories you tell them. About the Doctor?"

Donna tilted her head, suddenly looking a bit suspicious, "Yeah? What about them? They're just stories."

"Thing is, Donna, I don't think so. See, I know a man called the Doctor. He's got a blue box that travels through space and time, wears a long trench coat and sneakers and talks about a mile a minute."

Donna had gone very quiet for a moment, "Big hair? Thin as a rake? Knew some woman named Rose?"

Really? Martha almost scowled. Even _now _Rose was going to come up? In the middle of the bloody apocalypse, Rose was still popping up all over the place. She sighed, "That's the one."

Donna nodded slowly, "The bloke on the broadcast," she said, "The one the Master tortures sometimes… that's him."

"Yeah," Martha nodded, "That's him. I'm a friend of his… That's why I'm out here. Travelling around. The Doctor's got a plan, but it's a bit tricky. He can defeat the Master, but we've all go to help him or it won't work."

"So this plan? It's the Doctor's plan?"

"And if you know the Doctor, you know he can stop anything," Martha nodded.

"What's the plan then? How's he gonna do it trapped up there with him?" Donna demanded.

Martha took a deep breath and looked around, "Now's as good a time as any…" she said, "Get everyone into the cafeteria and I'll explain…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Anything?" Ianto asked, leaning over Tosh's shoulder and frowning.

"Nothing about Gwen and Owen, if that's what you're asking," Tosh sighed, "I'm sure if they could contact us they would, Ianto. We just have to give them more time, that's all."

Ianto frowned worriedly, eyeing going to the computer that Tosh was typing away on. They had been staying in the Hub since they'd arrived back in Cardiff courtesy of Castiel's teleportation. After Martha and Sherlock had left, they stayed in the Hub. Tosh was working on getting around Archangel – she was getting close, but the network was far more complicated than she had originally suspected.

Kate Lethbridge-Stewart checked in on them from time to time, but she spent a lot of her time with other UNIT soldiers, trying to keep a low profile after finding herself on the Master's radar. Tosh and Ianto had been able to keep out of the spotlight for a few days, but unfortunately the Master had discovered that they'd escaped his trap after about a week. There hadn't been anything about Owen and Gwen being captures so they assumed that they were still on the run.

"Alright," Ianto sighed and passed Tosh a cup of coffee. She had been working around the clock to get into the network. "Anything new to report for Kate?"

"Nothing much," Tosh sighed, "But I did find something interesting this morning…" She leaned over and grabbed a laptop that was sitting on her desk. A few clicks and she turned it so that Ianto could see the screen.

"While I was digging last night I ran across another server. Unnamed and separate from Archangel. I tried to break into it, but it's almost as secure as Archangel itself. Whenever I tried to break in, I got a message from someone; I'm assuming the guy who created it…"

"So it's not the Master?"

"Not as far as I could tell," Tosh said, "I think it's someone else trying to crack Archangel… They called themselves Dr. Badass, so I think we can assume it wasn't the Master."

"What did he say then? Anything?"

Tosh shook her head, "Nothing except that trying to crack his network would be completely pointless. Of course, he doesn't know me. I tried to reply, but he shut me out."

"Can't blame him," Ianto frowned, "Everyone's paranoid these days."

"Obviously," Tosh nodded, "But if he's capable of building a network this intricate, we should try to contact them. They could be helpful. There have to be others out there trying to break it."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Morgan scrubbed his face in the bathroom sink and sighed. The mirror above the sink was cracked, but clear. In the past month, he felt like he'd aged at least ten years. Five of those years had been in the first week after the Decimation.

He hadn't had any way of getting to Chicago to see Desiree, no way of staying in contact with her at all. The only people he had left at the moment were the team. Hotch had called in a former BAU agent, David Rossi. Morgan had never met the man, but he, just like most of the BAU, had heard a lot about him anyway.

In the days after the Decimation, the agents had banned together. Not just from the FBI, but the nearby NCIS had too. Despite the non-friendly regard the agencies often held for one another, they worked remarkably well together in this time of need.

Once the Master sent out his ultimatum – work for him or die – many agents went on the run. Any who were found were killed, but with help most of the established a network of interconnected houses and underground barracks to stay hidden in. It hadn't been easy, but it was by far better than working for the Master.

Which wasn't even an option for any of the team anymore. Not only was Reid on the list, but now all of them were. Prentiss, Garcia, Hotch and Morgan were all on the Master's most wanted list now. The list was constantly shifting and changing as more people were added and more people were killed. It was considerably shorter than it had been before, but still far longer than the Master was happy with.

To make things worse, the Master's weekly live-torture broadcasts were disturbing on entirely new levels. Watching Reid being tortured on live television was something that none of them could possibly explain. Reid was fine, as far as things went now, but that was definitely him on the television as well.

"Hey," Rossi entered the bathroom, knocking, "You done in here? One of the women needs to use the facilities."

"Yeah, yeah," Morgan edged passed the older man, "Hotch and Gibbs back yet?"

"Not yet," Rossi shook his head, "DiNozzo's been waiting by the door for 'em to bring back 'real food'."

Morgan laughed a bit and shook his head as the entered the large living space. They were in an old run-down apartment building. Most of the building was pretty much condemned, but they had managed to fix the plumping and wire electricity into the space so it was functional enough. There were several agents staying in the space, the entire team, Garcia and a few NCIS agents as well.

Abby Scuito, an NCIS tech who'd been helping Garcia try and crack Archangel open, practically skipped by the and slammed the bathroom door shut as they passed.

They figured they were probably more informed than most of the other safe houses given that Dr. Mallard, the medical examiner who worked for NCIS, was a former UNIT employee who knew more about the Master than anyone else.

Morgan could still remember their first time meeting the older man… Until then, Morgan had seriously doubted that the Master had been telling the truth about not being human, but Ducky had explained that back when he worked for UNIT there had been a man who called himself the Doctor who wasn't human either and apparently he was the same species as the Master.

When the Master started torturing a man called the Doctor on live television and Ducky recognized names of people that the Doctor had been friends with – Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, the Brigadier's daughter; a woman named Sarah-Jane; a man named Harry Sullivan among others. They figured a lot of the people on the list knew or had known the Doctor.

What still hadn't figured out was how Reid could be in two places at once. Given what Ducky had explained about Time Lords, they figured that it was something to do with time travel, but the exact how and why were still not clear.

Garcia had been probing Archangel, trying to find a way inside, but not even with Abby's help had she been able to make much leeway.

"Hey Baby Girl," Morgan smiled at the blond analyst who was busily working on a stolen laptop. "Anything?"

Garcia huffed, "I wish I could say yes, but skivvy son-of-a-bitch is good. A month and we've hardly made a dent in it…"

"If anyone can break it, it's you," Morgan assured her, squeezing his shoulder.

"That's what you said a month ago," she sighed sadly, "Derek what if we can't -?"

"Don't talk like that, Princess," Morgan shook his head at her, "We'll win this. There are more of us than there are him. We'll get there eventually."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Like I said, sorry for the long wait on the chapter. It was a real pain the butt to write. *head-desk* *head-desk* *head-desk*

And sorry for the lack of Sherlock *sigh* You will hear more from Sherlock (and other Sherlock characters like Lestrade) next chapter, I promise!

(And for those of you who don't know, _Dr. Badass_ is Ash.)

Also, two things. One, yes I included Craig O'Laughlin. Doubt he'll get very big, but he just demanded to be in here. Two, you're damn right I included Adam Milligan. He didn't get near enough time on the show and I happen to love him a bit too much.

Anywho, forgive me for taking so long and please review!


	12. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 7

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **First, as always, thanks so much for the reviews :) You guys are amazing as usual! I love you!

Second, holy crap was this chapter actually fun to write. Don't know what it was, but I really enjoyed it and I hope you all enjoy it too! Thank you for your patience waiting on it; I know it's unfair making you all wait.

Please review and let me know what you think!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

The people in the building listened in captivated wonder as Martha told them about the Doctor and his space ship; she explained everything that she knew – about what the Doctor had told her to tell them.

She'd travelled over most of the United Kingdom by this point and told the story to countless people. She was leaving London as soon as possible, moving east once more. She wouldn't have doubled back at all except that she had finally heard from Sherlock that the first part of their "weapon" was ready to be picked up. While she was with Torchwood she'd already made the decision that the first and last parts of the "weapon" would be hidden in London.

Martha didn't even know the exact location of the other pieces. Sherlock still had to hide the second piece somewhere if he hadn't already and she didn't know exactly where Kate was taking hers, but she was able to stay in contact with them over radio networks. They only had a small window of opportunity and she wasn't sure if Sherlock could get her the first piece in time or not, but she hoped and she waited.

Donna was a huge help, telling her own story about how she'd met the Doctor. Martha actually found herself listening to Donna and laughing as Donna talked. The older woman certainly had a knack for storytelling and what a story it was. Martha wasn't sure if she'd have believed it if she hadn't met the Doctor before herself.

This wasn't the first time she'd met someone who could relay their own stories of the Doctor. She'd met Sally Sparrow her first time in London a few weeks back – she vaguely remembered the young woman as the girl who'd handed her and the Doctor the papers about the Weeping Angels and she definitely remembered her story. She'd even met a woman running a safe house who had travelled with the Doctor ages ago – in another lifetime she'd said – she called herself Sarah Jane and the two of them had fought off a group of Toclafane with the help of a robotic dog Sarah Jane had said was named K9. Martha had promised to tell the Doctor she sent her love when she saw him again.

Of course, none of the people Martha had met so far could quite match Donna's personality. Martha found the boisterous woman comforting though. She was defiant and angry and refused to believe that this was how things would continue to be. The kind of person who inspired hope and fighting spirit.

It was getting late that night, Martha's stories and Donna's had been told and she could hear people talking about the Doctor, whispering about how wonderful it would be if he could help. She just hoped that she'd done a good job convincing them all.

"So," Donna bumped her on the shoulder and pulled her out of her wondering, "You met Shakespeare?"

Martha grinned at the memory, "I did," she said, "Got to see one of his plays in the Globe too. Best second date of my life," she sighed sadly and frowned.

"What? You fancy him?"

Martha shrugged, "I dunno, maybe… I haven't got a clue anymore what I think. I mean… he's the most fantastic man I've ever met and I've never been bored with him but it's… like he looks right through me, you know? Like I don't even matter."

Donna frowned, "Well, alien of not, I say he's still just a bloke so if he can't give you the proper attention, maybe you find someone who will."

Martha grinned at her, shaking her, "Well, I think now might be a bad time to go looking for a boyfriend anyway, don't you think?"

Donna looked around and shrugged, "I dunno, end of the world and everything. What better time to do something rash and unexpected."

Martha laughed then, a light feeling she hadn't felt in a month filling her gut. She couldn't really remember the last time she'd laughed, really laughed. It felt nice. "Got a point there," she agreed, nodding, "Still, be a bit difficult to find a man with me constantly travelling around and all."

Donna nodded, "Alright, but what about once this is over? Shakespeare might be nice and interesting, but seems to me your pining on a lost cause, sweetheart."

Martha sighed, "You're probably right," she said, "All he ever talks about is how Rose would've been, how special she was, how much he misses her…" she made a face, "Sometimes I think I hate Rose and I've never even met her!"

Donna laughed and shook her head, "Ah, don't hate her," she said, "Must've been quite a girl if Spaceboy's still moaning about her."

"Must've," Martha nodded glumly, "Still, there are these times when I think he can actually see me, ya know? And he'll smile and grab my shoulders and tell me I'm brilliant and I just… Forget how much it hurts when he doesn't do that."

"Blimey, you've got it bad," Donna shook her head, "You can't keep hanging around waiting for him, Martha," she said, "Not that he's not great, but I think he's a little off his rocker anyway and there's probably plenty of other blokes out there."

Martha thought about that, "Maybe," she said, "I dunno. First things first, though, I should probably finish saving the world." She laughed a little, but the weight of those words seemed to crush her shoulders. Donna smiled at her and put and arm around her comfortingly.

"Probably for the best. But after saving the world, move on and have a life. That's what I say anyway…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

While van Pelt led Jane to the back to teach him the basics of gun use, Rigsby sank down onto the couch next to O'Laughlin and sighed heavily.

"You're really worried about him going out there with us, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Rigsby nodded, "I mean, I've worked with Jane a long time, the guy's never used a gun in his life. If he knew more about this, maybe…"

O'Laughlin frowned a bit, shaking his head, "How has he never used a gun before?" he asked, "I mean, he was in law enforcement, right?"

"Yeah, but remember, he was just a consultant. He was never armed. He hates guns anyway, I can't believe he said he'd use one…"

The FBI agent mulled that thought over for a moment and then patted Rigsby on the shoulder, "We'll be there to watch his back, Wayne," he said, "Everything's gonna be fine. We might even find your boss too. Just relax; no sense getting worked over something like this."

Rigsby offered O'Laughlin a wan smile and the other agent left the room to go to the backrooms and watch Jane shooting. Rigsby was – for once – alone with his thoughts and he allowed them to drift over everything that had happened in the past month. It hadn't been any easy time, that was for sure. He'd lost friends, colleagues… People he'd never even thought he would miss were gone and it gave him an ache in his chest.

Suddenly, Grace Holloway sat down next to him, smiling softly. The doctor and van Pelt had been the ones who kept everyone else sane most of the time. They were the voice of optimism and reason whenever everyone else felt like giving up or that they were never going to win this.

"You look even more depressed than Patrick did," she said, "You know, that's not exactly comforting. I thought you'd be more excited, finding Agent Lisbon after all this time."

"I am," he said, shaking his head, "It's just… I'm worried about Jane…"

"You don't to lose another friend," she nodded, "You know, for what it's worth I think Patrick needs this more than any of us. Plus, he's going to drive me nuts if he stays down here another hour!"

Rigsby laughed and nodded, "Good point…"

Grace sighed, "How many people have you lost?"

"What? I don't … Too many already," he shook his head, "You?"

She frowned, "My cousin, Jessica, her husband, my next door neighbor… I'm actually glad my parents are both gone so I didn't have to lose them in this nightmare…"

"I lost my best friend…" Rigsby still didn't like to talk about Cho, sometimes he still had nightmares of finding him lying there, eyes empty and staring. "…And my dad…"

"I didn't know you lost your father," Dr. Holloway sounded surprised and leaned forward, "That must've been hard."

Rigsby pressed his lips together, "Not as hard as you'd think," he said, "He wasn't really a father… I haven't spoken to him in years. Not since the last time he was in prison."

"Oh," Grace's face fell a bit and she nodded. "I see. Well, hopefully tonight you'll find Agent Lisbon. At least that'll be a friend you saved,"

"Yeah… Hopefully…" Rigsby didn't want to admit it, but he really was beginning to lose hope. He felt like they weren't making any progress in the fight against the Master and more people died every single day and there was more suffering in the world than there ever had been before. The whole reason he'd joined the CBI was to help people, the make the world a better place and yet he felt entirely useless in this world. He didn't know what else he could do to help fix things, but what he was doing wasn't working.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Sir," Sargent Sally Donavan, a tall woman with thick, bushy hair, shook her head, "Should you really be going out this time of night? The Toclafane patrols are going to heavy right now."

Greg Lestrade just shook his head, "I know how to doge them, Donavan. You stay here; look after everyone while I'm gone."

She huffed, "After what happened to Anderson –"

"I'll be careful," the older man assured her. She bit her lip and made a face. She was used to following his orders. After all, he'd been her boss before all this madness with the Toclafane and the Master taking over. But they'd been working for the Master for over a month, staying in one of the Master's sanctioned community areas in London. Or, rather, what was left of London. It wasn't much like the old London these days.

"That's what you said when you and Anderson went out to meet him," she insisted, "And he got himself killed. Look, he's not worth risking our lives over –"

"He's saved our lives a few times too, Donavan," Lestrade pointed out. "Just look after everyone; I'll be back in a few hours."

She sighed, "Fine," she said, "But if anyone comes searching –"

"I'll take the fall for it," he assured her, "He's our best shot. He knows a lot more than we do about what's going on up there." He looked toward the ceiling but Donavan knew he was thinking about the _Valiant._ She didn't say anything else, but her stomach felt tight as she watched him disappear into the darkness. It had been bad enough losing friends and family in the Decimation, but to lose Anderson a few weeks ago… She didn't like the idea of also losing Lestrade.

Lestrade made his way down the dark, familiar streets, ducking behind dumpsters and trash bins and inside doorways whenever he spotted Toclafane. No humans were out this late – none that were forced to work for the Master anyway. There was a nine o'clock curfew for all people and the ones who were out after nine were usually killed on sight.

He only went a few blocks until he reached the bench Sherlock had told him to wait for him by. It was dark – no street lights were turned on any more and the old bus stop hadn't been used since the Master took over.

Lestrade was anxious as he waited in the dark, every small noise, every gust of wind nearly setting him off. Not that anyone could blame him. They were living in dangerous times; it was risky to be out after dark anymore even if you were caught by Toclafane. The longest five minutes of his life whittled past before he heard a deep, familiar voice behind him and he spun to face the tall, gaunt man.

Sherlock Holmes had certainly looked better.

He was even paler than he had been before, if that were possible, and nearly skeletal in appearance. Not that he'd eaten much before, but Lestrade got the distinct impression that Sherlock went a week or more without eating these days. His clothes were tattered and worn and he had cuts and callouses on his hands and face that hadn't been there before, but despite his weathered appearance his cold eyes shown with the same arrogance and defiance as they always had.

"She's in London again," Sherlock spoke in a deep whisper, quickly passing something dark and heavy into Lestrade's hand. The DI examined it and realized it was a black briefcase.

"What's this for?"

"Give it to her," Sherlock said, "She can't stay for more than a couple of days and then she's going to have to move on. She's already covered most of the United Kingdom by now, she'll be moving east…"

"Two days?" Lestrade swallowed, feeling a bit nervous, "How am I supposed to find her? London's a big city –"

"She's in one of the community houses," Sherlock said, "Near the southern factory."

"But that's miles away from here!" Lestrade started to protest, but Sherlock shook his head, "I can't take it. I'm leaving the country tonight."

"Leaving? For where?"

"Cardiff," he said stiffly, "The Torchwood Hub."

"So that's still secure then?"

"As secure as it can be," Sherlock said, "They still haven't heard from their lost members…"

Lestrade nodded, hefting the case in his hands, "That it then? Nothing else to say?"

Sherlock studied the older man with narrowed eyes, "Be careful," he said finally, "Martha Jones may be our greatest hope in defeating the Master. We need to get her out of England as soon as possible."

Lestrade nodded gravely. He knew enough to know if anyone could beat the Master, it was the Jones girl. He parted from Sherlock quietly and made his way back to the building, keeping the case close to his chest the entire way. He was curious about what it was for, but decided it was probably for the best if he left Martha open it first.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

McGee limped over to the desk where Garcia and Abby had everything set up. His leg was healing, but it had been a rough break and he still had trouble putting too much weight down on it. He glanced over at the blond analyst who was angrily pounding away at the keyboard.

"Careful," he said, "You might break it."

She jumped a little, not hearing him come up and sighed, "I know, I know," she said, "I just hate this. We aren't getting anywhere and he's just killing more people every day."

McGee nodded somberly, "Well, with our help we'll crack this thing," he said, "The three of us have to be good for something."

"Besides coffee runs, you mean," Tony interjected from where he was sitting across the wide open space. He was on the beat up couch next to Morgan, the two of them sitting next to a landline phone playing a card game.

McGee made a face at the other man and Abby, who was just coming out the bathroom smirked, "Oh don't be so mean, Tony!" she said, "McGee's helping us with this Archangel thing. What have you done in the past month?"

"Hey! I do stuff!" Tony muttered, "We all take turns going on food runs, remember? Well, expect McGee,"

"And Garcia , Spencer and Ducky," Abby said, "And me. We help in other ways. More important ways."

"Food's not important?" Tony raised a brow and Abby smiled.

"You know…" she sat down next to McGee, "I'm getting bored in here. We should really do something."

"Do something?" Morgan frowned, "Like what? We're in an abandoned building hiding from an alien Hitler. We can't exactly go out and have a few drinks, Abby."

"No," she said, "But we could still do _something_," she said, "I mean, a game night, eat cake, play Twister! Being all depressed and moping is bad for morale."

"Game night?" Rossi creased his brows, shaking his head, "We're in the middle of what some people think is the apocalypse and you want to have a game night."

"Yes," Abby nodded, "We could play _Monopoly_ or… _Sorry_!"

"Actually," Ducky chimed in from where he was seated at the small wooden table they usually ate at. "She may have a point. It is important during times of crisis for one to pass the time with trivial fun and games. You know, many board games were actually invented during the Second World War when families hid in bomb shelters during air raids."

"That's true," Reid, who had been in the back area of the building where Jack Hotchner and Jessica Brooks were currently sleeping, nodded eagerly, "They became especially popular during the Blitz in London whenever people were stuck underground for hours waiting out the end of the Hitler's bombs…"

Prentiss snorted and smiled, "Sounds like you were right, Morgan, the Master really is Hitler,"

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by three short taps on the door and everyone fell silent. Tony, Morgan, Rossi, Reid and McGee all reached for the guns that they kept on them at all times and Tony and Morgan slowly approached the door. Three more taps and Tony peeked through the small hole they'd drilled, slowly relaxing, "It's Gibbs!" he announced, pulling the door open.

Gibbs and Hotch both stepped through the door quickly followed by another man and carrying large duffle bags that they immediately dumped on the table.

"Look who we found," Gibbs motioned to the other men, a small smirk on his face. The NCIS team, of course, was familiar with the man from several cases they'd worked with him and the BAU agents knew him well enough themselves.

"Fornell!" Tony seemed surprised to see the other man. After weeks of hearing nothing from him, they'd all assumed he had been killed, yet there he stood, looking weary and tired but definitely alive.

"You're alive!" Abby was actually grinning. Any time they found out someone was still alive was a good day in her book. "But what about…" she trailed off when the other man just shook his head and sighed. No family then.

"Where have you been? How'd you slip under the Master's radar?" McGee asked curiously.

Fornell sat down heavily on the couch and shook his head, "Wasn't easy, to be honest. First thing after the Decimation I checked on… Well, they were… gone. Right about then, the Toclafane showed up and I ran. Hid wherever I could, ran into a few others along the way. It's Hell out there."

"Don't we know it," Gibbs agreed, nodding.

Fornell looked around, "Is this everyone?" he asked, frowning.

"Everyone here," Hotch answered, "My son and sister-in-law are in the back, but we're a small group."

Fornell's eyes roved over the group and he tilted his head toward Gibbs, "What about the Director? Did she get out?"

"As far as I know," Gibbs' voice was a bit hard, "We got her out first thing, but we haven't heard from her since."

"Her name's still on the list," Tony pointed out, "Means she's probably alive."

"Probably," Fornell nodded, a frown on his face as he thought. There was a moment's pause before he took a deep breath and looked between Hotch and Gibbs, "So," he said, "You said you guys knew something important about the Master?"

Gibbs and Hotch exchanged looks and then Gibbs turned to Ducky, "It's a long story," he said, "Ducky tells it best."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

When Sam got off the phone with Adam, having set up a meeting place about an hour away from where he and Dean currently were, Dean had been less than happy.

"We can't get sidetracked here, Sam," he insisted, "We were looking –"

"For a safe house we aren't even really sure exists," Sam cut him off, shaking his head. "Dean, look, I know this hard, alright? I get it. But you're the one who always says that family comes first, remember? If this kid really is our brother –"

"Bullshit,"

"Dean!" Sam sighed and clenched his fist, "You know as well as I do, Dad wasn't exactly a monk. It's possible."

"What, so I'm supposed to believe that we have a half-brother he never even told us about?"

"There's a lot of things Dad never told us," Sam pointed out, "Wouldn't surprise me if this is one of 'em. I get that this is suspicious, but don't we at least owe it to the kid to hear him out? He's scared and alone right now Dean!"

"We don't owe him anything Sam, okay? He's not our family! Even if he is Dad's kid, that doesn't make him our family. He didn't live this life like we did and if Dad really was hiding him from us, don't you think it might've been because he didn't want him to have this crap on his shoulders all the time?"

"I don't think he's got a choice anymore, Dean. The world's gone to Hell, in case you missed it. If we really do have a brother out there, the least we could do is protect him,"

Dean still wasn't thrilled about the plan, but he shouldered his duffle bag and gripped a machete tight in one hand before they left the warehouse. They stopped a few miles outside of the town and used the phone Ash had made again to call in. Dean made a point of having Ash look into Adam and find out if he really could be their brother and then they were on their way again.

It was risky just driving around the streets these days, especially in the Impala. The big black car tended to draw attention to itself and both Rufus and Gordon had to force Dean to lock the car up somewhere and use something else. It had nearly killed Dean to part with his Baby. Luckily, their skill with false IDs and Ash's computer genius meant that they were still able to forge most of the documents needed if they were stopped by people.

Toclafane were another story, of course, and they'd already discovered that they could tell very well the difference between authentic passes and fakes. Which meant they dodged the little things at every corner.

The hour long drive passed in fuming silence on Dean's part. Sam studied the map and crossed off another area where they had hoped to find the safe house. There were six red "X"s on the map and Sam was starting to think that either the Master had wiped out the place or it didn't really exist at all.

They got there before Adam did and escaped the confines of the beat up car, staring around the deserted street. It was getting dark out, the sky a dull grey color, and most of this area had been condemned due to nearly irreparable damage. They waited almost fifteen minutes before the soft glow of headlights caught their eye.

Dean gripped his machete tight behind his back and Sam unlocked the safety on his gun and they were both still as the car rolled to a stop in front of them. Two people got out of the car and Sam felt his stomach twist a bit. One was a teenager, almost definitely Adam. He was tall and thin and sported several cuts on his face. The other was a tall, dark skinned man holding a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

When he spotted them, he raised the gun and flashed a bright smile, "Well look at this…" he said, cocking his head to the side, "Sam and Dean Winchester in the flesh. Never thought I'd see the day…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The desert. Owen was bloody _sick _of the desert. The sun was high overhead during the day, beating down on them constantly and at night it was fucking _freezing. _And they'd been out here a month. An entire month.

Oh sure, they travelled, but they hadn't gotten very far in a month what with their sad lack of supplies for food and water. They'd nearly died of dehydration in the first couple of weeks, but luckily they'd managed to make it to a town with actual people before that happened.

Unluckily, the town of people had all been forced into working for Saxon – who was calling himself "the Master" now – and they were nearly killed by those floating black balls that they learned were called Toclafane. Gwen had ended up needed several stitches in her leg after the nearly lethal attack and the townspeople hadn't been exceptionally willing to help them hide. They were gracious enough to provide them with food and water, but only because John was able to help some of the more injured people who needed it and Jake happened to be fairly fluent in the language.

Now, they were all curled into a small cave around a fire that they weren't sure was a good idea to set, but they were freezing and they didn't have extra blankets. They'd passed through a couple of other towns like the one before, but it was always the same. They weren't willing to hide them from the Master, but were kind enough to share food and water and sometimes allow them to clean up.

They heard about safe houses where people had gone underground to hide from the Master, but so far hadn't found any and didn't expect to. Not out here in the desert anyway. Maybe in places where people could hide more easily, which was what they were heading to. Owen and Gwen had told them about Torchwood and the Hub and Jake and John both agreed that seemed the place to start.

So they were heading that way, but it was incredibly, impossibly slow and they weren't totally sure where they were anyway.

Jake had his hands stuck as close to the fire as possible and he was still shivering a bit.

"So," he said, "How much farther d'ya reckon it'll be?"

Gwen shifted from where she was sitting against the cave wall and shrugged, "Can't be too much farther. We've been travelling at a steady pace for a month and we just left… what was the name again?"

"Maymana," Jake said, "We're pretty near the Afghanistan-Turkmenistan border right now… I think."

Owen sighed, "It's going to take forever at this pace,"

Gwen hated to agree, but they really were moving quite slowly and she would have much rather they were in Wales by now. Of course, that wasn't going to happen. "Well… maybe we should try travelling at night. We'd cover more ground that way at least."

"Yeah," John nodded, "But the Toclafane are everywhere at night and there aren't a lot of places for to hole up while we're in the desert…"

"What we really need is a miracle," Jake said, "Be nice if that angel friend of yours would zap us right to your base,"

Owen snorted, "Would be nice," he said, "But instead, the bloody ass ships us off to Afghanistan instead. What fun." He rolled his eyes and Gwen sighed. They'd all gotten used to Owen's complaining. Hell, Jake sometimes joined him in bitching. It was certainly not fair to be stuck out in the desert while the rest of the world had apparently been taken over by a dictator and they had no idea where Tosh and Ianto were.

"Do you suppose he really was an angel?" John asked suddenly, frowning thoughtfully. "Like from the Bible, I mean,"

"Dunno," Gwen seemed to think about that, "If he was maybe God told him to send us here for some reason,"

Owen snorted, "Then God's an asshole,"

"Owen!"

"What?" Owen glared at her, "Look, I don't care if he's God or if he's the fucking Pope or the Queen of England – if he shipped us out here in the middle of the desert without any explanation then he's a dick."

Jake grinned a bit, "Can't argue there,"

Gwen however, looked slightly offended, "You shouldn't brush off something like that, Owen,"

"What, are you a Christian?" Owen sobered up a bit then, studying her carefully. The subject had never come up before.

"No," she said, "I mean… I don't know, but if there really is a God don't you think you should treat him with some respect?"

Owen snorted again, shaking his head. "No," he said, "If he can't respect us, I don't. Have you looked around lately Gwen? The world's going to shit and if God's real, he's just sitting on his arse, watching it happen!"

Gwen still looked annoyed, but instead she just shrugged, "I doubt he was really an angel anyway," she said, "I mean, he was probably some kind of alien or something…"

Jake laughed, shaking his head. "Man, you know the world's gone nuts whenever alien sounds more plausible than angel…"

"It is not plausible," a stern, monotone voice spoke from the mouth of the cave and the four of them jumped. "I told you before, I am an Angel of the Lord."

Gwen and Owen were on their feet immediately, Owen livid and extremely pissed.

"Angel of the Lord my arse!" he snapped, stepping toward Castiel and prodding him viciously in the chest, "You shipped us into the middle of the fucking desert without any sort of explanation!"

Castiel cast his eyes downward, staring at the finger and then looking back up at Owen's face. John and Jake watched in silence while Gwen moved around to stand closer to Owen and Castiel.

"That was not me," he said.

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked before Owen could explode again.

"I am being monitored. We are not supposed to interfere, I told you. Whenever I transported you, Zachariah intersected and placed you where you landed."

"Who the Hell is Zachariah? And why did he zap us here?!" Owen snapped, "What was the point?"

Castiel clenched his jaw a bit and shook his head, "He hoped you would die."

"What?" Gwen sounded outraged, "He… was trying to kill us? What did we do?"

"Nothing, it was me," Castiel's voice was a bit strained; he wasn't used to have to explain so much. "He was trying to teach me a lesson for interfering,"

"Then what are you doing here now?" Owen demanded, "What's going on? Do you know what's happening –"

"I was able to bargain with them," he said, "After a month, you are surviving and working toward getting home. Michael finally allowed me to return to you and take you to your base."

"To Cardiff?" Gwen sounded excited then, "You're going to take us to the Hub?"

"Yes,"

"What about us?" Jake spoke for the first time, standing slowly and eyeing the unblinking angel warily.

Castiel looked at the two soldiers and frowned, "You were not part of the deal…"

"We can't just leave them!" Gwen protested, "It's not fair. You broke the rules before, right? Break them again!"

Castiel seemed conflicted and Owen crossed his arms, "Look, it's just two more people, right? That's not such a big deal. You can take them with us. Besides, if you're really trying to help, then saving them would be a good thing, right?"

He still seemed uncertain, but he nodded slowly, "I suppose…" he said, "But we must all go together so that I can make sure you arrived before I return to Heaven. Take my hand." He held out both his arms and the four of them latched on nervously. They forgot to grab their bags, but that hardly mattered because a second later they were in the cave anymore and instead were standing in underground Hub.

Gwen couldn't stop smiling as she gazed around the familiar place and she turned to thank Castiel, but he was already gone.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Jack was tugging on his chains in frustration. He had been locked up deep in the bowels of the massive ship for longer than he cared to think about, spending most of his time alone or being tortured. It was muggy and hot and his clothes were nearly soaked through with sweat and his face was greasy and dirty with dried blood and oil. He hadn't eaten in nearly a week and could already start to feel himself weakening.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd starved to death, but he was willing to bet the Master would make this time far more unpleasant than it would have been otherwise. Not that it was the first time he'd died on this ship either. In the last month he'd died four times. Three of those times being on live TV while the Master grinned and laughed and the Doctor watched in horror.

He had to say, he was glad the Doctor was holding it together, but he didn't know how much longer the Joneses could last. Francine was cracking already. It was hard enough knowing one daughter was out there, travelling the world on some dangerous mission, and watching another be tortured and used, but she'd also watched her son die. From where Jack was standing, Francine Jones was one of the bravest women alive at the moment.

He was actually happy whenever the guards came down and unchained him that day. They kept their guns on him, though it hardly bothered him anymore. Death by gunshot was a quick and relatively painless death compared to some that he'd died. He was just glad to be out of the chains, but he could really use something to eat right then.

They led him up to the conference room where the Master seemed to be busy with Spencer and the Doctor. Jack cringed at the sight of them. He hadn't seen either of them for several days and it was amazing how much worse someone could look after just a few days.

The Doctor was pale and gaunt and bruised and Spencer was even worse – clearly beaten and tortured beyond what a human should be expected to endure. At that moment, Spencer's hands were bound over his head and his feet were dangling just a few inches above the floor. The Master had his suit jacket off and was wielding a whip in his hand. Jack flinched at the bloody crisscrosses that littered the younger man's back.

The Doctor was gagged and bound a few feet away, watching with a fire in his eyes that almost scared Jack. He was screaming something through the gag, but it was impossible to know what. Lucy Saxon was watching from the table, but unlike the last few times Jack had seen her, there was no oddly out of place smile on her lips. She flinched at every whimper Spencer let out and kept her lips pressed tightly together.

Jack frowned, "You just get a real kick out of beating people when they're all tied up, huh? Is that some kind if kink?"

The Master lowered his whip and turned to grin at Jack, "Oh, I almost forgot how pathetic your little remarks were, Jack," he said, eyes glittering, "I've missed them!"

He stepped away from Reid and nodded to the guards, who rushed to release the injured young man. Jack winced when Spencer nearly collapsed right onto the ground, only being caught by the guards' quick hands. They gently carried him away and laid him on his front, but none of them dared move to bandage the wounds, not without the Master's say so.

The Master's eyes were on Jack the entire time he was herded to the spot Reid had been moments before. Jack glared at him while his wrists were bound in manacles and put on the same bravado he'd been using since day one, smirking as the Master lowered the whip and practically skipped to where the Doctor was.

He yanked the gag down and the Doctor started to say something, but the Master pressed a hand over his lips, shaking his head. "Now, before you go off on another of your sanctimonious little rants about how I'm evil and whatnot… How about you end this all right here, hmm? Tell me what Miss Jones is up to and we can call it a day…"

He lowered his hand and the Doctor took several panting breaths, shaking his head, "It wouldn't end anything…" he said, "You enjoy it too much."

The Master grinned, "I suppose I do," he nodded, "But it's a pity you won't even _try _to save your friends."

"I'm not the one hurting them," the Doctor's voice was defiant and angry, but he didn't feel like he was being honest. As far as he was concerned, this was his fault and his mess to clean up. And yet Martha was the one doing the work. He only hoped that this would all be fixed in the end.

The Master didn't seem too incredibly bothered by the Doctor's refusal and shoved the gag back in place before walking over to the table where an array of weapons sat. Knives, saws, machetes and guns and weapons that weren't even human in origin. He eventually settled on a large, gleaming knife and Jack tensed a bit when he approached him with a manic grin. This was going to hurt…

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Well that was certainly a chapter, huh? But I'm mostly amazed that I got every fandom in there (despite not including Tosh and Ianto) and managed to get it in roughly 6,000 words. Holy crap that's gotta be a record.

Also, a quick note: I changed the amount of time Martha spent at the Hub. Instead of two weeks, it was less than a week (probably five or six days). As was pointed out by **KMW1968** it would be impractical for Martha to stay in one place for that long when she's got to travel the world in a year.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter guys! Please let me know what you think!


	13. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 8

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **So sorry for the long wait guys! I was away from home most of the week before Thanksgiving and last week was, well, Thanksgiving. I've been busier than I'd like to be with helping cooking and cleaning and getting ready for Christmas. Sorry!

And, as always, thanks so much for your reviews! You guys are amazing!

Hope you all enjoy the chapter! Please don't forget to review!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Castiel returned to Heaven as soon as he'd transported the Gwen, Owen, Jake and John to the Torchwood Hub. He knew that they probably still had many questions, but it was not his job to answer them. He wasn't surprised when Zachariah showed up to greet him.

The other Angel was waiting for him, his back to him as he stared ahead.

"You were only supposed to transport Gwen Cooper and Owen Harper, Castiel," Zachariah's voice was even and steady, "The others were not part of the agreement."

"The agreement I made was with Michael," Castiel said, "And I doubt that our Father would be upset that I saved the lives of two humans."

"Two insignificant humans," Zachariah said, "Yes. Which is why they _should_ have been left behind. It's bad enough you saved the others, but Jake Talley and John Watson were an unnecessary addition."

"They deserved to live just as the rest of them did,"

"To what end?" Zachariah turned around finally, and though his voice was still quiet even his eyes were like fire. He was an impressive sight even when he wasn't angry – wings flaring brightly, eyes ablaze. "They are not part of the Plan, Castiel. Their lives are unimportant in the grand scheme of the universe. Our Father expects us to do a job – one job, Castiel, and it's beginning to seem that you may not be worthy of it when that day comes."

As much as the higher up Angels talked about "the Plan", all Castiel and many other garrisons knew for sure was that it involved Sam and Dean Winchester and the Apocalypse. They were never given more than that and Castiel suspected that until the Plan was in motion, they never would be.

"I merely did what I thought was best," Castiel argued, "They could prove helpful to the Torchwood team and if we are not going to interfere –"

"We aren't!" for the first time Zachariah's voice rose to booming strength. "You're treading very dangerously, Castiel," he warned him, "Do not make the mistake of descending to Earth again unless you are told. One more slip and you will be relieved of your command."

With that, Zachariah was gone and Castiel wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. It seemed that he was the only one concerned about the goings on below. Perhaps his older brothers knew more than they were letting on, but Castiel didn't feel content to simply sit and watch while a madman turned his Father's greatest creation into a nightmare. There had to be another Angel who felt the same…

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Reid and the Doctor had been left in the main conference room after Jack was taken back to his holding place. The Master didn't really appear to be too bothered that the Doctor still hadn't told him what Martha was supposed to be doing and after a month of torture and demanding questions, Reid had come to the realization that while the Master wanted to know, he didn't actually think Martha was a real threat.

They were both chained to the wall; the Master had eventually allowed someone – Reid recognized the guard, but didn't know his name – to bandage the wounds on his back. It was a bit sloppy, bit was better than nothing. For the moment, they were alone in the room. The Master had gotten bored torturing Jack after a while and left with a couple of other young women who were on the ship. Reid didn't like to think about what couple be happening to those girls…

"Can I ask you something?" he whispered quietly in the dark room, glancing over at the Doctor.

"Hmm?" the Doctor looked over at him, blinking and frowning. They never really talked much, usually, except to assure each other that this was going to end eventually. The Doctor was careful about what he said, not wanting to reveal anything that the Master might stumble upon during his periodic invasions into Spencer or Jack's minds.

"It's about the Master…" he said, "You knew him before, right? On Gallifrey?"

The Doctor nodded, "Yes, we went to the Academy together."

"And you were friends?"

"I suppose, yes," the Doctor nodded, "Neither of us really had many friends so we sort of… stuck together."

"Does that mean he wasn't always… insane?"

"No," The Doctor's eyes darkened and he shook his head, "Not always."

"Then what happened?" Reid frowned, "Between you two? He… he seems to hate you, but you don't really act like you hate him. At least, not all the time." Reid could think of several times he'd thought he'd seen hate in the Doctor's eyes, but it always seemed to be brief and only whenever the Master was torturing someone or telling him that someone he'd known was dead.

"That's… that's a rather long story,"

"We've got a lot of time," Spencer reminded him, holding up the chain keeping them in place, "And I don't think we're going anywhere anytime soon."

The Doctor smiled a bit and shook his head, "You've got a point," he said, "But I dunno. It's difficult to explain, really. Sometimes even I'm not sure what happened…" He trailed off, eyes staring at nothing in particular and Reid sighed. He wished he knew what the Doctor was thinking, wished there was something he could tell him.

"You know," he said, pulling the Doctor out of his memories, "Before… when I met the other you, I always thought you seemed sad. Like you'd lost something you could never get back. Then I learned about what happened to Gallifrey and I thought that was it, but… I think it might be because you blaming yourself for everything. Not just the Master, but for what's happening to Martha's family, to me, to Jack… You blame yourself for your friends' suffering."

The Doctor didn't say anything, not bothering to deny what was true. He did blame himself – if not directly then at least indirectly – for what was happening. It was his mess that he needed to clean up; the Master was his responsibility.

Spencer thought about something River Song has once said to him and shook his head, "Don't you think that's a little narcissistic?"

"Narcissistic?!" the Doctor managed to summon enough spirit to sound slightly offended by that and Reid smiled.

"Blaming yourself for everything," he said, "kind of seems like you think the world revolves around you. You can't possibly be the cause of all of our problems, Doctor, and it's not up to you to always fix it. You should remember that. Bad things happen and it doesn't have to be your fault. The Master doesn't have to be your responsibility and carrying around guilt like that only makes it worse."

The Doctor sighed, "I suppose you might be right, but I can still fix it, Spencer, so it's still my responsibility. If I can fix it, then I have to at least try, don't I?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The glare of the flashlight blinded Dean for a second and his grip on his machete tightened. The features of the two men in front of him were almost indistinguishable – he could tell that the man holding the gun was tall and dark skinned, but that was about it. The teenager he assumed was Adam was on the thin side and his hair was a sandy-colored mess, but that was about it. He was tall and wearing ratty clothes.

"I can't even begin to tell you boys how much it pisses me off to find you now," the man was still holding the gun aimed at Dean, "All these months searching for you and I find you in the middle of fucking Armageddon."

Dean glanced over at Sam, sending him an angry glare, "Well, apparently you know who we are, but I gotta tell ya, we have no clue who the hell you're supposed to be,"

The man smiled, "FBI. Or at least I was… Victor Henricksen."

"FBI?" Sam tensed, thinking about all the FBI agents that had been forced into working for the Master.

"Don't worry," Henricksen said, "I'm not working for that whack-job. Doesn't mean much for you two…" His finger tightened on the trigger of his weapon and Sam and Dean both got ready to dive at him if they needed to.

"Henricksen," Adam spoke for the first time, his voice quiet and a bit nervous, "They're my brothers,"

"Brothers," Henricksen sneered a bit at the word, "Adam didn't you hear what I said before we left? These two are dangerous criminals –"

"I knew my father," Adam said, his voice rising a bit, just a hint of anger there. Dean felt a jolt when Adam said that. How long could he have known John? "He wasn't a murderer,"

"Adam –" Henricksen started to say something, glancing over at the teenager and shaking his head. Dean didn't bother to think much and took advantage of the opening, rushing at Henricksen and wrestling the gun from his hands.

As soon as he held the gun, he stood, pointing it down at the former FBI agents and breathing heavily. "Now," he said, "I think you two owe us an explanation before I shoot you in the face."

"Dean," Sam edged forward, keeping his gun in his hand, but switching the safety back on, "Come on –"

"Explanation?" Henricksen raised a brow at him, "What? Did you just expect us to let Adam waltz right into some shady meeting with his supposed 'long-lost brothers'? The second he said John Winchester was his dad, I knew this wouldn't end well."

"What? You thought we were setting up a trap for _Adam_?" Sam sounded shocked, until he remembered that Dean had thought the same thing about Adam before they'd left. Being paranoid had saved their lives more than once in this world.

"No," Adam was quick to rush in, his eyes wide and staring at Sam and Dean, "They were just worried… Trusting strangers isn't exactly a good idea these days."

"You're damn right," Dean swung the gun to face Adam, narrowing his eyes, "Who are you?"

Adam bit his lip, "Adam Milligan," he said, "My mom was Kate Milligan, my father was John Winchester –"

"You're lying!" Dean spat the words with such anger that even Sam was surprised by it. He stepped toward his older brother and put a hand on his arm.

"Dean, Kate Milligan… KM, remember?"

Dean shifted to look at Sam, but still shook his head. "Prove it," he jerked his head toward Adam, "Tell us about your father."

Adam hesitated, "There isn't a whole lot to tell, I didn't meet him until a few years ago. He showed up on my birthdays, a couple of times around Christmas and if he was ever passing through he'd stop in. It wasn't the perfect relationship, but –"

"He was with you at Christmas?" Sam cut him off, his eyes wide. John Winchester hadn't celebrated Christmas – a _real_ Christmas – with him or Dean since Dean had been about ten, maybe even before that.

Adam frowned, nodding, "Yeah, not the day of Christmas, but he'd stop by Christmas Eve or the day after once or twice and he'd give my mom money. For my fifteenth birthday he took me a baseball game –"

"Baseball game?" now Dean cut him off, staring at Adam with a mixture of disbelief and envy. He'd never really given a whole lot of thought to the normal family things he'd missed out on – it was incredibly depressing to dwell on that – but when he'd been younger he'd sometimes fantasized about having a normal life, his dad and him and Sammy playing football in the backyard. He always rationalized it because they had more important things to do, because missing out on a few holidays and family bonding was worth being able to save people.

"Yeah," Adam frowned at them, "What he didn't do that stuff with you?"

Sam scoffed, shaking his head, "I think you're talking about an entirely different John Winchester."

"He was in the Marines," Adam went on hastily, "He fought in Vietnam, he… he said he was married before, but he never mentioned a name –"

"Or us, apparently," Dean muttered. He'd never hated his father, in fact he often idolized him – he tried so hard to remember that John had been the best father he knew how – but hearing this, now, was killing him.

Adam looked a little uncomfortable, but continued anyway, "He was a mechanic. He was tall…" his eyes flicked between Sam and Dean, "You two have the same color eyes he did,"

Sam almost smiled, "Mechanic? So you didn't know what he really did, then,"

"What do you mean?"

"He means their dad was a whack-job serial killer," Henricksen spoke up again, "There isn't much in the records, but I'd bet my last dime he abused and brainwashed these two with a bunch of devil mumbo-jumbo –"

"You don't know shit about my dad!" Dean snapped, turning the gun toward Henricksen with a vicious fire in his eyes. Henricksen didn't even blink, just smirking up at Dean.

"Hit a nerve, Dean?"

"What… what did Dad really do?" Adam asked, his voice tentative, "If he wasn't a mechanic?"

Sam hesitated before answering, "He saved people's lives," he said, "He fought monsters. Taught me and Dean how to kill 'em too. It might sound crazy, but look around you… Does it sound any more insane than an alien dictator taking over earth?"

Adam hesitated, frowning, "What kind of monsters?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Gwen was the first one to move toward the computer area. They could hear the low hum of the electronics and weren't saying anything until they knew for sure that it was Tosh and Ianto. John and Jake kept close to them, staring around the Hub in wonder as they did.

"No, I haven't been able to get a response yet," that was Tosh's voice, "but don't worry, Ianto, I will."

"Still nothing about Gwen and Owen, then?"

Tosh sighed heavily, but before she could answer, Gwen and Owen – still followed closely by John and Jake – stepped out into the space and Gwen nearly knocked Tosh from her chair as she hugged her. Owen stood back and watch the exchange, shaking his head a little, though even he couldn't hide the relieved smile on his face that the other two were alive and apparently well.

"Gwen!" Tosh pushed the other woman back and stared at her with wide eyes, "Owen… You're… you're alive!"

Ianto was standing there, dumbfounded for a moment, before he saw John and Jake hanging back and he frowned, "Who are they?"

Gwen, still smiling so hard that it hurt, turned to the other men, "It's a bit of a long story, actually…" she took a deep breath, "And I'm sure we've all got a lot to explain."

"Right," Tosh agreed, standing, "Why don't we go into the conference room?"

"Sounds like a plan,"

They all headed toward the room, Owen still hanging back with John and Jake. Tosh stopped and frowned at him, "Can't even say 'hello', Owen?" When he still didn't respond, Tosh frowned and waved a hand in front of his face, "Owen? Are you in there? Are you alright?"

Suddenly, Tosh found herself wrapped into another hug, this one thankfully not as tight as Gwen's had been, but probably twice as shocking. She thought she heard Owen choking back a sob, but maybe that was her imagination running wild. He only held her for a second before letting his arms drop and composing himself.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat, "It's… it's good to see you again, Tosh."

Tosh smiled softly and looked down, "Yeah," she said, "You too, Owen,"

It took them all a couple of hours to trade their stories of what had happened after Castiel had teleported them from the Himalayas. If the other pair hadn't been there, it might've sounded incredibly unbelievable. Tosh and Ianto got the others up to speed about exactly what was happening – they explained more about the Toclafane and about the Archangel network that was proving a pain to work around.

Of course, they'd heard that many people had been killed in the original Decimation – they counted themselves lucky that they'd been able to avoid that, mostly, but there were still people dying every day. When Tosh told them about Jack being on board the _Valiant_ and the torture that they'd witness, Gwen gasped and didn't know what to say. She had asked why they hadn't tried to rescue Jack, but she quickly realized how futile and reckless an attempt would've been.

"So Martha Jones is her name?" Owen asked, frowning a bit as Tosh showed them the picture of Martha that the Master broadcast every day. "Young isn't she?"

"But she's smart," Ianto said, "And the Master doesn't want her out there. If she's right about this Doctor…"

"Do you think it's the same Doctor Jack talked about?" Gwen wondered aloud.

"Has to be," Owen said, frowning, "Wouldn't have ditched us otherwise, right?"

"Owen!"

Talk soon moved to who they knew that had survived so far and Gwen was anxious to know about Rhys. Tosh and Ianto hadn't seen or heard from Rhys, but Tosh was quick to assure her that it didn't necessarily mean that he was dead. He could still be alive, working in one of the Master's labor camps.

Tosh glanced at her watched and frowned, "It's getting late," she said, "We were just about to go to sleep… Sherlock should be here tomorrow,"

"That's the guy that was with that Martha girl, right?" Jake asked, frowning.

"Yes, Sherlock Holmes," Tosh said, frowning, "He's already left London and he tends to move fast so he'll most likely be here before dark tomorrow."

"We could all use some rest," Gwen agreed, "Tomorrow you can show us what you've been doing with Archangel."

"Rest?" Owen looked a bit wistful, "In a bed?"

"No, Owen, we're going to make you sleep on the floor,"

Owen gave Gwen a dirty look, but didn't say anything else, too excited at the prospect of _not _having to sleep on the ground. The six of them quickly found places to sleep – whether it was in beds or makeshift beds – and drifted off. It was the most restful any of them had slept in a while. Tosh couldn't help but smile as she fell asleep; it was good to have their team back together.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, I know this is about half the length I've been giving you – and it's much more manageable this way, I gotta say. Don't worry, we'll hear from Sherlock, Martha, Lestrade, the Mentalist team and, of course, the NCIS and BAU teams next chapter. I'm going to start alternating between Martha's scenes and the Doctor's as much as I can. I'm really sorry for the wait on this guys, part of the reason it's shorter is because I didn't want you to wait any longer for an update.

So, hope you enjoyed! Please review!


	14. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter Nine

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **So… late again. I should really be punished for this, huh? If it makes any difference, it was partly due to my finals and partly due to the fact that I was suffering from the fact that Supernatural won't be back 'til January and how can they do that to me?

Anywho… New characters this chapter! Awesomeness. I'd like to give thanks to **KMW1968** for suggesting them. (In case you're curious, they're characters from Psych, though, again you don't need to have seen Psych) And I'd like to give **KMW198 **thanks and credit for the flashback scene and a lot of what happens when Ducky's telling his story, she gave me the idea and I loved it – thanks!

Now, onward to the chapter!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Martha was sitting up in the common area, staring anxiously out the window. It was after midnight and she could see the moon high in the sky. The cloud cover was sparse and the stars were shining. She sighed, thinking back to her adventures with the Doctor, travelling among the stars, running for her life. That all seemed like such a long time ago, barely a memory anymore.

"Still waiting then?" Donna came up behind her, startling the younger woman.

"Yeah," Martha glanced back at Donna and turned her attention back to the window, "I hope he's alright…"

"Ah, I'm sure he's fine," Donna said, "Not easy to sneak around the streets of London these days, though. He's probably just being careful."

Martha smiled, nodding, "Suppose you're right. Guess I might be a bit antsy. I've been in the UK too long now, I really should be moving on." She fiddled with the Vortex Manipulator on her wrist, "Considering using this to get me into France, but I really don't want to."

"That's the travel thing-a-bob," Donna said, reaching out to touch the leather band. Martha seldom wore it around her wrist, often opting to carry it in her bag instead. The band felt constricting and heavy and she didn't care for it.

"Yes," Martha said, "I haven't used it since I went to Cardiff, but I need to get out of London quickly… I just dunno if it'd be a good idea. Besides, I haven't got a clue how to make it take me anywhere besides typing in an address and most of the places I know are here in England."

"Maybe I can help," Donna suggested, "I did a bit of travelling after I met the Doctor, might have been somewhere close to where you're planning to go next."

Martha nodded, "Thanks," she said, "That would certainly be a help. I don't think I should stay in London any longer than necessary." She glanced back at the window, "I just hope I can get it all done in time."

Donna put an arm around her shoulder, "Don't worry, sweetheart, you'll figure it out. If the Doctor says you can do it, you can."

For the next hour, the two women talked about Martha's route around the world. Once she left the UK she planned to go through the rest of Europe first and Donna said she could certainly help. She'd been to Portugal, Spain and France during her travels, along with Egypt as well. She remembered – or at least she hoped she remembered – the address of a hotel in Lisbon, Portugal where she'd stayed and Martha decided to risk it; she'd been in London long enough and it was definitely time to move on.

They were both keeping watch out the window, hoping to spot Martha's contact at any moment. Martha had hoped that Sherlock would've been able to come in person; she hadn't seen him in a while and was surprised to find that she missed having him around. He made her feel a bit more confident in herself and what she was trying to do. Just when she had figured that the man wasn't coming – and prayed that he hadn't been killed – she saw a dark silhouette in the street and jumped up, rushing to the door.

He knocked three times and whispered the safe word hoarsely before Martha, with Donna right behind her, pulled the door open and allowed him in.

He was a tall, rather handsome man with a head of grey hair and piercing eyes. He was carrying a bag, knuckles wrapped tightly around the strap. He held out his free hand and offered the women a shaky smile.

"Greg Lestrade," he said, huffing a bit.

"Martha Jones," Martha introduced herself, "This is Donna Noble,"

Lestrade nodded to them both, "I'd say it's nice to meet you, but under the circumstances…" he gestured down to the bag.

"Right," Martha took it and opened the bag, glancing inside and sighing in relief. It certainly _looked _authentic and that was the important part. Hopefully, it would fool the Master, at least for a while. "Thank you, I know how much you risked getting this here."

Lestrade smiled at her, "Well, it'll be worth it if this mad plan of yours works,"

"Not really my plan," Martha smiled, "Most of it's the Doctor and the rest of the credit really goes to Sherlock,"

Lestrade smiled, "Not surprised about that,"

"How is he?" Martha asked, "When you saw him, I mean, was he alright?"

"Yeah," Lestrade nodded, "Bit thinner than I remember him last time, but still Sherlock."

Martha sighed in relief, "Well, you'd best be on your way back. Don't want to get caught by the Toclafane."

Lestrade glanced back towards the door and nodded, "Don't want that at all,"

"Mind if I tag along for a bit?" Martha asked, already kneeling on the floor and carefully putting the first part of their fake weapon into her pack before sliding it onto her shoulders. "Just until we reach the camp."

"Hang on," Donna frowned, "You're leaving tonight? Why not just wait until it's light out? Get some rest, Martha, you haven't slept at all tonight."

"I'll be fine," Martha assured her, "I've got to get moving if I want to make it. Besides, better to leave when it's dark. Easier to hide out, even if the Toclafane are patrolling."

Donna didn't looked pleased about it, but she nodded and hugged Martha tightly before she and Lestrade took off into the night. "You'd better take care of yourself," she warned, "I don't want to hear about you being killed or captured in his announcements."

Martha smiled, "Don't worry about me," she said, "You just take care of yourself and these people. They need someone like you around to kick them into shape every now and then."

Donna chuckled, "'Course they do. They'd be lost without me. That's the only reason I'm not insisting on going with you. But I mean it, Martha, take care of yourself."

"I promise,"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"He's actually not that bad," Van Pelt said, watching Rigsby eye Jane anxiously as the blond man gripped the glock that they had given him. "For a guy who's never even fired a gun, he did really well. I think he'll be fine."

Rigsby grunted, nodding. "I hope you're right about this, Grace," he said, "I just… don't want him to get hurt."

She smiled and squeezed his arm gently, "Don't worry. He'll be fine. We'll have his back if anything goes wrong,"

He forced a smile in return, "Absolutely,"

There was an anxious pit in his stomach and he didn't want to think too hard about what they were going out to do. It was risky enough to go out stealing food or other supplies, but they were taking a trip to Pasadena – one that would require a car and the cover of night. At least there wouldn't be any people patrolling. The Toclafane did that at night. All they had to do was dodge them and make it to Pasadena in one piece. Easy.

They all met outside of the building, the car was sitting there waiting. They had stolen the car off the street a few weeks after the Decimation, but they rarely used it. It was risky driving around and they preferred to go places where they could walk. Not to mention how difficult it was to find gas for the car anyway.

O'Laughlin, Jane, Van Pelt and Rigsby were going to Pasadena. Dr. Holloway and the other agents were staying behind with the children.

"We ready to go?" O'Laughlin asked, leaning against the beat up old car and raising a brow.

"Yeah," Rigsby nodded, still watching Jane nervously. Jane didn't seem bothered by Rigsby's scrutiny, he just grinned brightly and nodded as he and Van Pelt slid into the backseat.

"Come on then," Jane said, sticking his head out the window, "It's already dark, let's get going."

"Calm down, Jane," Rigsby climbed into the driver's seat with O'Laughlin in the passenger side. "We're going. We've got to take this slow. If we get spotted by Toclafane I doubt this piece of junk can outrun them. We've got to be careful, okay?"

Jane wasn't really listening though. He'd been stuck in the safe house for over a month now and he was excited to finally be going somewhere, especially if that somewhere would lead him to Lisbon. His leg was bouncing up and down in the backseat and he stared out the window, fingers tapping restlessly against the back of Rigsby's seat.

He didn't stop his incessant tapping until they finally got going, pulling away from the house. Though it was dark, they drove with the headlights off, glad the night was clear. Along the way they spotted several Toclafane and were forced to pull off the road and cut the engine. It was slow going, but at least they were going.

Jane was constantly moving, leaning forward so that he could see out of the windshield. Van Pelt sighed and put a hand on his shoulder, "Hey," she said quietly, "It'll be alright, Patrick. We're going to find her."

He turned to look at her, nodding, "Of course we'll find her," he said, but his eyes were troubled and Van Pelt smiled gently at him. He started to say something else when he spotted something moving ahead in the darkness.

"Hold on," he pointed ahead at something, "What's that?"

O'Laughlin frowned and leaned forward, squinting into the darkness. There, on the side of the road ahead of them, was a small group of people huddled together. Rigsby frowned and pulled over near them, cutting the engine again and leaning out the window.

"Need some help?" he asked.

He was immediately greeted with the end of a .45 and he blinked, leaning back in as a tall man separated from the group with a scowl on his face.

"Who are you?" he demanded, jabbing the gun into the car.

"Whoa, whoa," Rigsby held his hand up and shook his head, "Calm down, buddy, we're not working for the Master, alright?"

"And why should we believe that?"

Rigsby started to say something, but Van Pelt leaned forward and cut him off, "If we were, wouldn't we have shot you already?" she asked, "Besides, only Toclafane are out this late."

The man curled his lip, not looking convinced. Another man from the group looked up and Jane could see that there were four people in the group. The man with the gun and two men leaning over a woman who didn't look conscious.

"Come on, Lassie, be cool," the other man said, "They're just like us. Out here on the run from the floating metal death machines."

The other man – Lassie, apparently – snorted and turned to glare at him, "What, your psychic crap tell you that, Spencer?"

"Hey! You two stop it," the other man, older than the other two, "We've got bigger problems right now." He motioned to the woman and they realized his hands, pressed against her left leg, were bloody and there was a strip of fabric tied tightly over her jeans.

"She alright?" Rigsby asked, frowning.

"No," the older man stepped forward and the younger guy took his place at the woman's side. "We ran into Toclafane a few miles back. She passed out five minutes ago… Henry Spencer. This is my son Shawn. This is Carlton Lassiter,"

He waved his hands to introduce the other two.

"She needs a doctor," O'Laughlin said, eyeing the other woman. "We've got one at our safe house,"

"We can take you," Van Pelt said, "Probably fit you all in here…" The car was small, but they might be able to squeeze two more into the backseat and they could probably carry the woman with them across their laps.

"Wait, what about Lisbon?" Jane frowned, "We can't take them back before we find her,"

"Patrick, they need help," Van Pelt said, "We can go after Lisbon tomorrow night. We can't just leave them out there."

Jane leaned back, looking unhappy, but Rigsby and O'Laughlin seemed to agree with Van Pelt and despite Lassiter's suspicious attitude, they managed to fit Henry and Shawn into the back seat and the woman – whose name was Juliet – was laid out with her head in Shawn's lap and her feet propped up against the window by Jane's head. Lassiter was able to squeeze into the front seat with O'Laughlin and Rigsby and they were soon on their way back to the safe house.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Tosh was the first one up the morning after their reunion. She was sitting at her computer station, a furrow already appearing between her eyes as she studied the computer screen. She had been at it for an hour whenever Gwen came in, smiling a bit. She was glad to be back in a familiar place.

"You're up early," she said, coming around to see the monitor.

"Habit," Tosh said, "Ianto and I have been keeping an eye on everything since we got back to the Hub. The Rift's been quiet lately, only had to deal with a few Weevils every now and then, thankfully. But that doesn't mean much, considering the Toclafane attacks and the Master watching everything."

Gwen sat down and brushed her hair back, frowning, "Who exactly is Dr. Badass?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Our best guess, another rebel. He's in North American from what I can tell, but he's not trusting me yet. I've tried to get him to talk to me…" she frowned, fingers tapping against the keyboard. "He might be able to help us."

"So you haven't had any luck cracking the network?"

"No," Tosh sighed and leaned back, "But if we had some help, like this Dr. Badass person, I think we could break it a lot faster."

"Oh, I slept _great_!" Owen came in, stretching and grinning from ear to ear. Tosh and Gwen both laughed as he flopped down in a chair, closing his eyes and humming a bit. Gwen hadn't seen him so happy in a month – probably longer. It was good to see him smiling again.

Ianto and Jake quickly followed Owen and John wasn't far behind either of them. John and Jake both looked much more refreshed and well rested than either of them had been in a very long time.

"Is there coffee?" Owen asked, glancing over at Ianto.

Gwen sighed, "Owen, come on, how are they going to have coffee –"

"It's in the conference room," Ianto cut her off, smiling a bit when Owen jumped and practically ran to the room.

"How did you manage to find coffee out there?" Jake asked, frowning, "I thought this place was a dead zone."

"It is," Ianto said, "But I'm very good at my job." He smiled a slightly impish smile and followed Owen to the conference to get coffee for everyone else. Tosh and Gwen laughed. John rubbed a hand across his face and wandered over to where they were.

"So this is what you've been doing then?" he asked, "Trying to break into his network?"

"Yes," Tosh nodded, "Unfortunately, like I said, we haven't gotten very far. Sherlock maybe be able to help whenever he arrives –" Almost as soon as the words had left her mouth they heard the inside alarm let them know that someone was coming down.

"Must be him now," Gwen said, "Can't wait to meet him."

Tosh smiled, "Remember what I said," she warned, "He's not exactly sociable."

"Ah, I'm sure we'll be fine," Gwen said, smiling, "As long as he's helping us at least."

"That I am," Sherlock's voice greeted them before he did and he swept into the computer room, head high and in spite of his nearly skeletal appearance, he seemed almost regal as he stopped and smiled.

"Ah, I see you must've located your missing teammates," he said, turning to Tosh.

"Sort of," Tosh said, "It's actually a rather long story, but this is Gwen, Jake and John." She motioned to them and smiled as Sherlock turned cold, calculating eyes onto them all. "Owen and Ianto are in the conference room."

"Splendid," Sherlock clapped his hands together, "Let's all go there. It's a good thing I came when I did. I think your base might be in danger."

"Danger?" Tosh paled, frowning. "Since when? We've been fine all this time."

"The Master has added your names to the list," Sherlock said, "I suppose you haven't checked that yet. Seeing as he almost certainly knows where your base is, staying here is out of the question."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Castiel took up his post watching the Winchesters. He had been watching the pair of brothers for a while and felt as if he knew them – he couldn't say he understood exactly, of course. Even spending years watching humans, he'd rarely interacted with them and had a slim grasp on human emotions. Currently, the two brothers were in Minnesota and had been reunited with their half-brother. At least, Castiel _assumed_ Adam Milligan truly was their half-brother. He had never been informed of another Winchester sibling before. Perhaps he should speak to his older brothers about this.

He didn't hear his brother arrive, engrossed as he had become in the unfolding drama on the earth bellow.

"Ah, there you are, Cassie!"

He blinked and turned to see Balthazar, one of the angels in his own garrison. Balthazar was younger than Castiel, though not by much. They had fought together many times in the past – in the war during the Lucifer's Fall they had fought side-by-side. Balthazar had a more… mischievous nature than most angels, a trait that had gotten him into trouble more than a few times.

At the moment, he was smiling a cheeky grin at Castiel, looking very pleased with himself in a way that made Castiel nervous.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" Castiel asked, "This is my post."

"Yes, but I hear you've been taking a few pleasure trips bellow lately," said Balthazar, smiling.

Castiel frowned, "They were not 'pleasure trips', Balthazar, " he said sternly, "I was merely –"

"Merely leaving your post without permission," Balthazar cut him off, still grinning, "Not that I see why a few humans matter to you, but it got me to thinking… I can't be the only one who's noticed how time seems to have gone awry."

Castiel blinked, "No," he said, "The others have noticed as well. We're under orders not to interfere."

"And yet… interfere you did. You know, I didn't think you had it in you, Cassie."

"I don't understand,"

Balthazar sighed, "Of course not," he said, "Not my point anyway. I was just thinking… they all know something's wrong, so why aren't we helping them? Normally we'd be down there preparing for battle, wouldn't we? We don't even know _how _time has been tampered with on such a vast scale, but we're told to sit and watch?"

"Those are our orders, Balthazar,"

"Right," Balthazar nodded, "And far be it from me to disobey, but doesn't it feel like they aren't telling us something? Something important?"

"If we needed to know, we would," Castiel said, though he felt uneasiness stirring inside of him. He wanted to know. He didn't like not being told what was going on and he was sure that Michael and the others knew. Zachariah probably knew as well, seeing as he often worked very closely with Michael.

"Oh, and I'm sure you agree, given this new rebellious attitude of yours,"

"I am not rebelling –" Castiel started to defend himself when Balthazar held up his hand and cut him off once more.

"Right, right, of course you aren't," he said, "And while you're busy _not_-rebelling, I thought I'd pass along a bit of information…"

Castiel waited, frowning at Balthazar as the other angel paused and lowered his voice. It was difficult, in Heaven, to know when or if their conversations were monitored. Angels didn't know everything, far from it really, but the archangels, and Raphael in particular, were paranoid bastards when they wanted to be.

"There's another angel on earth," Balthazar whispered, "And from the looks of it, he's powerful."

"That is impossible,"

"Is it?" Balthazar raised a brow, "Really, Cas, do you think that I would tell you that if I weren't sure? No, I've checked. He's in North America at the moment, but lately he's been popping 'round the whole globe. Can't be sure what he's up to, but he's definitely one of us."

"Michael would have noticed something like this,"

Balthazar grinned, "Not if he was clever, Cassie. Not if he knew how to hide. I wouldn't have noticed it myself if he hadn't let something slip a week ago in Montana. Saw his wings and everything…"

Castiel frowned, "How could he be leaving Heaven unnoticed like that?"

Balthazar's eyes shone brightly, "Here's the thing," he said, "I don't think he is. I think he's been down there a while now and we just haven't noticed him. Been a bit busy, what with the Plan and everything."

Castiel's brow furrowed in puzzlement. This didn't make any sense to him. How could an angel hide for so long on earth without being noticed? He'd have to be smart and fairly powerful to do that. There were no angels missing… He thought back to all the angels who had died. The last time any angel had died was during the Fall and that had been such a long time ago. Lucifer had killed many before Michael cast him down.

For just a moment, Castiel considered telling Balthazar to inform Zachariah of this supposed angel. But then he thought about the condition of the earth and what Balthazar had said about them not being given all the information. He frowned and the next words out of his mouth were perhaps the hardest he'd ever spoken. He'd never directly disobeyed an order without proper justification.

"The next time you see this angel, notify me immediately," he said. Balthazar grinned again.

"That's what I thought you'd say," And he was gone. Castiel turned back to the Winchesters, but he wasn't able to focus on them any longer. He knew if Zachariah asked him, he'd tell him about this other angel; he couldn't lie. But did withholding the information constitute a lie as well? He wasn't sure and he wished the uneasy feeling inside of him would go away.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Ducky was a master story teller. The BAU agents had gotten used to his stories over the past month and the NCIS agents had had years to get used to it – and grow fond of it. They'd all heard this story before, but they were all still listening in interest. The story never really stopped being interesting. The things that Ducky had seen and done were often hard to believe – Gibbs wasn't sure he would've believed it himself if it hadn't been for all the things that were happening these days.

"Of course, I wouldn't say I knew him very well, the Doctor, but even I knew he was a force to be reckoned with." Ducky explained. "Almost too impossible to believe, the things he could do and said he had done. I might not have believed it for myself, but I saw him regenerate right in front of my eyes. I'll never forget that…"

He had quite a few stories to tell about the things he had seen, not all of them centered around the Doctor specifically. Working with UNIT had given him more than his fair share of strange. Fornell broke in to ask questions every now then, about things he had seen, about people that had met the Doctor. Ducky knew a few people – many of them who were either listed among the dead or who appeared on the Master's Wanted list.

He told them about the things he witnessed, about the people he'd met, recounting nearly every person he'd ever met who'd come into contact with the Doctor. He told them about the Brigadier, about Sarah Jane Smith, Harry Sullivan, even about a man he met not long after he'd left UNIT. A man named Jack Harkness.

"I had never had such a shock in my life!" Ducky insisted, a bit of a smile on his face, "I was alone in the morgue, cutting into this young man – he'd been shot several times by the looks of it – when suddenly, he just sat right up on the table!"

_Jack gasped and shot forward on the table, naked and bleeding from where Ducky had started to cut into. The startled young medical examiner froze and stumbled back a few feet, staring with wide eyes at the not-so-dead-dead-man._

_"You're alive!"_

_Jack smirked, swinging his legs over the autopsy table, twisting his neck and flexing his arms. He looked down at his bleeding chest and made a face, "Damn," he shook his head, "Hate when this happens."_

_Ducky blinked, "This happens a lot?"_

_Jack grinned, "More than you can imagine, Doc,"_

It was possibly the most insane collection of stories that Fornell had ever heard, but he looked around at the BAU agents and NCIS agents and shook his head. They were all listening with interest, but there wasn't a hint of disbelief on any of their faces.

"Hell of a story, Ducky," Fornell said, leaning back, "Hell of a man…" he trailed off and swiped a hand over his head, looking a bit shocked. "If anyone can help us, he can,"

Hotch nodded, "But if the Master has him and his friends on the _Valiant_,"

"He's gonna need some help this time," Gibbs said, frowning. "We don't know how we're going to do it, but we've got Abby, McGee and Garcia working on it."

"Ooh," Garcia suddenly perked up, "We haven't been able to break through the network _yet_," she said, "But Abby might've noticed something. Someone else poking around in there. We haven't been able to make contact yet, but if there are more people out there looking…"

"We might be able to break through," McGee said, "First real break we've had so far."

Gibbs grinned, "Keep trying to make contact then," he said, "If they can help us, we need all the help we can get."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Soooo… another chapter down. Not sure how I feel about it. That scene with Ducky was difficult to write and I'm not really sure why. Also… high probability of Crowley next chapter and be prepared for angst. There was supposed to be a lot of action and possible death in this chapter, but the scenes got away from me so next chapter might be longer. Brace yourselves.

Hope you enjoyed it and please, please review!


	15. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter Ten

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **So, first thanks to those of you who reviewed! I love you guys and your support means a lot to me! :D

Second, I'm sorry this is late. Thanksgiving took up an entire week of my writing time, but Christmas? Christmas took up two weeks and then some. *sigh* I think I hate holidays… Ah well. I had a great Christmas! Hope you all did too and Happy New Year as well!

Now, onwards to the chapter! We get some actions. Not as much as I thought and I kinda hate action scenes and we get a peek at Crowley as well! Yay! Enjoy!

Please, please review! Even if you hate it, please review and tell me what you think!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

Fornell ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. "This Master character is looking more and more difficult to kill,"

"We'll find a way," Gibbs said, "Everyone's got a weakness."

"And with pretty much everyone else out there trying to find a way to kill this son of a bitch, we'll figure out what it is eventually," Tony said.

"What I can't figure out is why did he keep the Doctor alive?" Reid frowned, crossing his legs, "I would have thought he'd want to eliminate anyone who could potentially pose a threat and the Doctor, being another Time Lord, would certainly be a threat to the Master. He knows their weaknesses and has the same abilities as the Master."

Ducky frowned, "I think that may be a bit personal, Dr. Reid," he said, "The Doctor and the Master have a rather peculiar relationship. Granted, I don't know _much_ about the Master, but I'd wager he's keeping the Doctor alive for some reason."

"And besides," Morgan said, "You've seen the guy. He sure as hell doesn't look like a threat to anyone, does he? It's hard to believe that man has ever saved anyone before…"

"Yeah, but if the stories are true, the Master is making a mistake not killing him," Prentiss said, "The Doctor doesn't seem like someone you'd want to underestimate."

"What _I_ wanna know," Rossi said, "Is how Reid's doppelganger got on the ship. He was there even when the President was killed, but that doesn't make any sense at all…"

Reid leaned forward, a frown on his face, "I've been thinking about that," he said, "Ducky said that the Doctor was a time traveler, right? So, maybe that me is _me_, simply from another point in time. It would explain why my name is on the list, wouldn't it? If that's a different version of me… I just can't figure out how I would've ended up crossing paths with the Doctor…"

Abby grinned, "Well that's obvious, Spence," she said, "Ducky said the Doctor was some kind of genius, obviously he'd be friends with another genius."

"She's got a point," Prentiss said, smiling, "And it makes sense… Some later version of you ended up with the Doctor and for whatever reason you were with him when the Master took over."

"But does that mean that this all ends then?" Garcia asked, "I mean, if the Master doesn't get defeated then there wouldn't be a future version of our junior G-man to get trapped on the ship, right? Or does time even work like that?" she frowned, tilting her head. "Ugh, this is too complicated."

"No, no, I think Penelope's got a point," McGee said, "If there's a future version of Reid that means that he at least lives long enough to meet the Doctor and come back in time. Maybe they came back to 2007 to try and stop the Master…"

"Obviously that failed," Morgan frowned.

"But we don't really know how time works," Reid pointed out, "In science fiction movies it's always fluid, constantly changing and shifting with each little choice and movement. Wouldn't travelling back in time to such a major event cause some sort of paradox?"

Hotch cast a fond smile over the group before quietly slipping off down the hall to where Jessica and Jack were sleeping. He tapped gently on the door before entering and smiled at Jessica from where she sat on the bed next to Jack. He was sound asleep, curled up tightly in the blankets. Hotch was a bit amazed at how much Jack had grown in the last month and always marveled at how peaceful he looked when he was sleeping.

"A lot of noise out there," Jessica said, glancing up at him, "Anything interesting?"

"We found another agent," Hotch said, "Tobias Fornell. He and Gibbs are apparently pretty close."

Jessica smiled a bit, "And here I was thinking Gibbs didn't have friends,"

Hotch laughed and knelt next to the bed, running his fingers through Jack's hair and sighing heavily, "He got to sleep alright?"

She nodded, "Like always," she said, "This little boy can sleep anywhere…" She looked down at Jack with a fond expression and Hotch felt his chest tighten a bit. He hated that Jack had to live in this world, without his mother. He couldn't imagine how terrifying it must be for a child and he didn't want his son to have to grow up in some post-apocalyptic horror story.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, "It's gonna be alright, Buddy," he whispered. "We're gonna fix this…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It didn't take very long to get Sherlock up to speed. Of course, it helped that he was incredibly adept at reading people. Tosh was convinced that even without their military fatigues, Sherlock would've guessed that John and Jake were soldiers and he somehow knew that John was a medical officer.

When Gwen and Owen related the story about Castiel teleporting them, Sherlock scoffed – as he had with Tosh and Ianto – at the idea of him being an angel. It seemed to be the one thing Owen and Sherlock agreed on fully. John and Jake were a bit more inclined to believe it really had been an angel, but both were quick to point out how scared they'd been of the man.

"Well, angels _are_ supposed to be scary, aren't they?" Tosh asked, frowning. "Warriors of Heaven and all of that."

"Yeah," Gwen nodded, "But I mean, you remember him. He didn't look like anything except a man… I think it was the fact that he never blinked that creeped me out." She shuddered a bit and frowned, thinking back.

"Nonsense," Sherlock waved his hand, "I think if there were Angels there would surely be more evidence to support such a claim. As it stands, it's far more likely that this Castiel was some unknown form of extraterrestrial."

"Hold on," John frowned, "There's no evidence angels _don't _exist and this guy said that he was an angel. What else could've taken us from Afghanistan to Wales so quickly?"

"A Vortex Manipulator," Sherlock said quickly.

"A what?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to explain, looking just a bit annoyed, before pausing and frowning,

"Did you hear that?" his voice was low and he turned around, pale eyes scanning the area around him and shooting up towards the ceiling. Gwen, who had been about to pour herself another cup of coffee frowned.

"Hear what?" Jake hissed, following Sherlock's example and keeping his voice low.

Sherlock held up a hand, extending his index finger and shushing them. There was a long moment of silence and then they all heard it too. A faint humming noise and then a rumbling sound. Eyes darted around the room, wide in fear as they edged toward the door. Suddenly, a loud, horrible screeching met their ears and they screamed.

Sherlock spotted them first and darted toward the exit as fast as his legs would carry him, screaming about the sounds of metal-tearing-metal. "It's the Toclafane! Run!"

There was chaos everywhere as the Toclafane entered the lab and their rotating blades began smashing things off tables and desks. The computers were the first to go, landing across the room in a heap with the screens shattered. Occasionally one of the Toclafane shot forth a laser that left behind a blackened, charred area nearly three feet in diameter. There were four Toclafane total and they managed to nearly destroy most of the Hub in a matter of seconds.

"Where are the weapons?" Gwen's voice called above the noise and Tosh ducked under one of the black creatures and ran, pointing toward the lab.

"We left them outside the medical area!" she called, screaming as a blade sliced near her arm. Owen was suddenly by her side, tugging her down and dragging her away. He held a gun in his hand, but didn't fire it, remembering what they had been told about the Toclafane.

"This way!" he covered Tosh as he dragged her away, toward the exit. They nearly ran headfirst into Ianto and John, who were shoving whatever they could into a bag – guns, knives, a laptop, what looked to be a handheld radio – John slung the bag over his shoulder and looked up, squinting and wincing at the noise.

"Where's Jake and Gwen?" he called, frowning.

"Medical bay!" Tosh had to yell over the screeching. Before John could say anything, there was an explosion and Sherlock was there in front of them, face littered with tiny cuts that he didn't seem to even be aware of.

"This way!" Sherlock called, "We need to get out of here, quickly!"

"We can't leave Gwen and Jake!" Owen protested, turning back. There was smoke from whatever had exploded that made it difficult to see anything. Owen started to go forward toward the medical area but Sherlock's hand on his arm stopped him.

"If we don't leave now, we'll all be dead," he said, "Is that what you want?"

"I'm not leaving them!" John shoved the bag into Ianto's hands and took off toward the medical bay, Owen breaking away and running after him. Sherlock scowled and shook his head, turning to frown at Tosh.

"You never mentioned your friends were idiots with no self-preservation,"

Tosh started to argue when Owen and Jake suddenly pushed back through the area, Owen screaming at them to go as he tugged a limp Gwen at his side. Jake was supporting John, who looked to be bleeding rather heavily from his left leg, but Jake strength allowed them to move much more quickly.

"Can we go, now?!" Sherlock nearly had to shout, but the words weren't necessary as they all ran toward the exit. The Toclafane's shiny blade and bright lights peeked through the smoke and flames erupted, but they didn't seem to have much of an effect on the creatures as they flew after them.

They burst out onto an empty street in the early morning. There were no clouds and the sun was bright as Sherlock led the way, screaming at them to run even as Ianto and Owen struggled to support Gwen and Jake ran as fast as he dared with the injured John. The Toclafane followed them for several streets before Sherlock ducked into a side street that was swathed in shadows and before Tosh's eyes, he disappeared.

She took a step forward and suddenly found herself tumbling. It was a short fall, only about two feet, but it took the breath out of her. Sherlock was dusting himself off and Tosh was quickly followed by Owen, Gwen and Ianto. Owen just barely managed to hold onto Gwen and John and Jake nearly fell right on top of them. John's leg buckled underneath him and he let out a grunted yell before Jake helped him back up.

Tosh got her first good look at Gwen and grimaced. The dark haired woman was clearly unconscious; the only thing keeping her upright was Owen's tight grip. One side of her hair was matted with blood like she'd slammed her head against something hard and her left arm was hanging at a terribly gruesome angle.

"I-Is she alright?" Tosh's voice was barely above a whisper and she looked up at Owen's clouded, dark eyes.

"She's fine," he snapped, shifting and lifting Gwen completely into his arms. "She's fine."

Gwen's head lolled to the side and Tosh couldn't take her eyes off of her. She was pale and if she was breathing at all, it was very shallow. Something inside of her tightened to the point of breaking and she felt tears burning her eyes, but she didn't say anything.

"Let's follow Sherlock," Owen said harshly, pushing past Tosh and Ianto and heading down the dark tunnel they found themselves in. Jake exchanged wary glances with them before heading forward with them, half-dragging John along.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Adam's question hung in the air for a long second. Sam wasn't sure how to respond without sounding like some nutcase. He remembered the times he'd insisted that people deserved the truth, that he and Dean shouldn't lie to the people they were helping. He'd been a lot different back then, of course. Back then, the secrets and the lies made him feel alienated and guilty. After that first year back hunting with Dean, Sam had realized pretty quickly that people didn't react well to the truth, even when they asked to be told the truth.

He glanced over at Dean, who looked even more reluctant to speak than Sam did. Dean was not going to be the one to tell Adam the truth, that was for sure. Sam turned back to face the teenager and really studied him. In the darkness it wasn't easy to make out much of Adam's appearance. He was blond and had blue eyes instead of the dark hair and green eyes that their father had. He was tall – nearly as tall as Dean – and lanky like Sam had been around his age. He searched the features for any sign of their dad, but it wasn't immediately apparent. He thought he could see a little of John in the way Adam held himself, tall and stiff. There was a hard, flinty look in his blue eyes that reminded Sam a lot of his dad and maybe he could see a little resemblance in his tight jaw.

Sam couldn't quit explain it, but he felt close to Adam somehow, already. Like he owed the kid an explanation, like it was his responsibility to make sure that Adam was alright, that he knew how to protect himself. He wasn't sure where that feeling came from, but for the first time he thought he might understand why Dean was such a pain about watching Sam's every move, sometimes hovering over him uncomfortably despite the fact that Sam could take care of himself very well.

Finally, Sam took a breath and responded,

"It's a long story," he said, "Probably a bad idea to be holding this meeting out here in the open. It'll be daylight soon and we're gonna need cover."

Henricksen was clearly not happy about that, grunting and shoving himself to his feet, ignoring the gun Dean was still holding on him. "No way," he said, "We aren't going anywhere with you two."

"Henricksen –"

"Adam," the older man shook his head, "No. You can't trust these two. They're expert liars and manipulators. It's what they do. We've got a string of witnesses to prove it."

Adam's jaw flexed and Sam thought he definitely saw the shadow of his father in that expression. He almost smiled when the teen turned and shook his head, staring down the FBI agent. He breathed through his nostrils and clenched his fists, shaking his head.

"You said you didn't have any evidence that Sam had killed anyone,"

Sam felt a jolt of surprise at that, then mild relief. He knew after St. Louis it was a miracle he hadn't been suspected of aiding Dean in the murders. That was probably because, at the time, they'd assumed Sam was a victim and Dean was "dead" for all intents and purposes. Of course, after they'd been arrested again in Baltimore, he'd just assumed they would suspect him of being an accomplice in the St. Louis murders. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

"Nothing we could prove," Henricksen said, his voice stiff. "That doesn't mean Sam isn't a suspect in several other federal offenses."

Sam sighed, "We're not the bad guys," he said, looking over at Dean.

His older brother smirked a bit, but it was a dark smile that sent chills down Sam's spine. He'd never thought he'd see the day when he was afraid of what Dean might do, but lately he felt like he waiting for him to explode at any moment.

"If it wasn't for us, a whole lot more people would be dead," Dean said, "We're out there risking our asses to save people and you're wasting your time trying to stop us."

Henricksen just sneered at him, "Oh, sure, I forgot. It was a monster –"

"Shape shifter," Dean corrected him, that same dark, smug expression still on his face. Sam shifted himself to the left just a little so that he was closer to Dean.

"Whatever," Henricksen said, "You can spout all the devil crap you want, Dean, that doesn't make it true,"

"I trust them," Adam said, "And you said yourself, there isn't any proof Sam ever hurt anyone. Can you at least trust him?"

Henricksen turned his eyes toward the younger Winchester and frowned. Truth be told, he wasn't exactly sure _what _he thought about Sam's involvement. It was clear that he and Dean had been dragged across the USA by their father, never staying in one place for more than a few months.

Dean was the obvious sociopath, never got along with anybody, dropped out of school at seventeen, got into fights… Sam was different. There were a few minor school fights on his record, but he had friends, he was a good student and he'd been on the fast track to a law degree before his long-time girlfriend was killed.

He'd always found it funny that Jessica Moore's death happened right around the time Dean reappeared and Sam vanished. Part of him was inclined to believe Dean had killed Jessica, but there was no proof that it was anything more than a freak accident. So far, Sam's involvement in any crime seemed to always been the accomplice and never in anything violent. Grave desecrations, petty theft and credit card fraud, but never the murders. Though Henricksen was pretty sure if they dug deeper they'd surely find _something_ that proved Sam's involvement.

From the outside, it never did look right. The behavioral analysis team who'd given a preliminary profile on the Winchester family had even said as much. Something wasn't quite right and they knew even less about John Winchester than they did about his sons. Henricksen was convinced that if he could figure out what kind of man John was, he'd figure out what motivated the brothers' crimes as well.

He realized Sam was looking him right in the eye and that surprised him. He shook his head, "No," he answered, "I don't trust either of them. But we do need to get to cover before we're spotted.."

"We passed a place a few miles down the road," Sam said, glancing sideways at Dean, "Trust us or not, I don't care. We've had plenty of opportunities to shoot you and we didn't take them."

Adam seemed to trust them no matter what Henricksen told him and there was no way Henricksen was letting Adam go anywhere alone with those two. "Fine," he said, "Lead the way…" he waved them toward their car and they all four climbed in, this time Sam behind the wheel while Dean sat in the passenger seat holding Henricksen's gun on him.

"Is that really necessary?" Sam muttered, frowning.

Dean gave him a cold look, "Hell yes," he said, "You want him to attack us because he thinks we're some kind of psychos?"

Sam pressed his lips together and didn't say anything, but he was silently praying that Dean wouldn't do anything to piss off the older man.

It wasn't a long drive, thankfully, but it was tense with Dean and Henricksen staring each other down the entire time.

As they pulled off the old gravel road, the dim light of the moon and faint greying of the sky that signaled dawn their only light, Sam spotted the figures. A man and a young woman standing the middle of the road about a hundred yards ahead of them. The man had his back to them and didn't appear to have seen them, but the woman's eyes got wide at the sight of the car and Sam thought he saw tear tracks down her face.

They stopped the car and climbed out, Dean and Sam both gripping their guns. Sam hissed at Adam to stand back as they approached.

"Everything alright here?" Sam asked when they were close enough. The man had turned to look at them, a smirk on his face. He was dressed in a neat black suit that was far, far too clean and taken care of for someone who'd been living in hell for the past month. Sam tilted his head and tightened his finger on the trigger of the gun.

The woman just sobbed and the man kept smiling, speaking with a smooth English accent.

"Well, this is quite a turn of events," he said, eyes flicking from Sam to Dean. In the dim light, Sam couldn't quite make out his features but suddenly the man's smirk widened and his eyes glowed red for just a moment. "Dean and Sam Winchester in the flesh. Never thought I'd get the honor."

Three shots rang out in the night and the woman continued to sob.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Dr. Holloway was woken from her light sleep by a commotion in the common area. Heart pounding, she slid out of her makeshift bed and hurriedly checked on the children that were all sleeping soundly in the room. She sighed in relief and felt around for a moment until her shaky hand wrapped around the butt of a pistol. She'd only ever fired a gun once or twice at her own insistence. She wanted to be prepared if she ever needed to use the weapon, but she had hoped she wouldn't.

Easing her way into the area, she held the gun unsteadily, heart thudding in her chest as she spotted unfamiliar people. It wasn't until she caught sight of Patrick's messy blond curls and heard Wayne's voice telling someone to stay steady that she relaxed and entered the room fully.

"What's going on?"

"Grace!" Rigsby turned at the sound of her voice and quickly ushered her over to where the group of people were gathered, "Perfect, I was about to go wake you up. She needs help…" He motioned toward the couch where Grace finally saw a young blond woman. She was pale and unconscious, her left leg blood and wrapped in cloth bandages.

Immediately, Grace shut out every other thought, passing the gun into Craig's hands and demanding scissors, water and her medical kit. They didn't have much in the place, unfortunately. It wasn't easy to get their hands on medical supplies, but she had to hope it would be enough.

Van Pelt was quick to bring her the things and Grace made everyone step back. She heard O'Laughlin say he was going to check on the kids and Van Pelt and Rigsby quickly followed, leaving only the strangers and Patrick behind as she worked on cutting the woman's pants leg off to get a better look at her wound. It was a nasty gash, but thankfully not as deep as she had feared. It looked like it had missed any major arteries, but she had clearly lost a lot of blood already.

She was well aware of the anxious eyes on her as she worked, cleaning the wound and doing what she could to stitch it up. Not for the first time she wished that they had the equipment to give blood transfusions. There was still a chance that the blood loss could be too great for the young woman to survive.

Grace wrapped a clean bandage around her leg and sat back on her heels, breathing a sigh before looking up at the others.

"That's all I can do for now," she said, "We'll have to wait and see what happens. Her pulse is still weak, but she's breathing at least…"

The two younger men were eyeing the blond woman anxiously, but the older man stood. He had a tired, weary look on his face as he sighed, "Thank you, Doctor…"

"Grace Holloway," she said, smiling just a bit.

He nodded, "Henry Spencer,"

She studied him and his companions for a moment before turning away and packing up her kit, "You should really get some rest," she said, "There not much we can do but wait and watch at the moment. There are extra blankets down the hall on the right and you can sleep pretty much anywhere you want. I'm sure Wayne or Craig will introduce you to everyone in the morning…" She turned to head back to her room when the youngest of them stopped her.

"Hey, wait!" he frowned, "There wouldn't happen to be a guy named Burton Guster here?" His wide eyes were almost desperate as he stared at her, "He's a friend…"

Grace shook her head sadly, "No, I don't think so," she said, "You can try asking the others though; they might've run into him." She glanced at Patrick, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at the young woman. She pressed her lips together, starting to ask him if he was alright, but the distant look on his face stopped her and she sighed again, heading back to her bed to get some rest.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The Doctor was almost positive that the Master lowered the temperature in the conference room on purpose. It was freezing in the room and he and Spencer didn't have much in to keep them warm except a few thin layers of clothing. It had been quiet most of the day. It gave the Doctor and uneasy feeling. Usually the Master was in and out and there were always guards and other people. Lucy Saxon rarely made appearances and when she did, she didn't speak.

Reid didn't talk much either, at least not proper conversation. He'd make remarks or sometimes voice concerns about the Jones family, Jack or his team down below. At the moment, he was hugging himself, hazel eyes darting around the room. He was paler than he had been before, his eyes seemed to have shrunken into his head and he had dark, bruise like circles under them.

"What do you think he's doing?" Reid glanced over at the Doctor, "Something must be going on for the Master to be gone all day."

The Doctor nodded, a grim look on his face. "And I doubt it's anything good."

"Martha's been careful," Reid said, "He can't have found her yet, could be?"

"No," the Doctor shook his head quickly, though that had been the first fear that had popped into his mind. He didn't want to allow the thought more room to grow into full blown worry. Martha was smart and had so far evaded the Master. He had to believe that she would be able to continue to do so. They were nowhere near ready yet.

When the Doctor grew quiet, Reid turned to stare at him anxiously, "How is it going?" he asked quietly, lowering his voice even though there was no one around to hear. "…with Archangel?"

The Doctor forced a smile that was more a grimace, "Slowly," he admitted. "The Master's not an idiot, even if he is insane. I can't make myself too obvious while I work my way in. We've still got a while though, before this ends. I'll get there."

Before Reid could say anything else, the Master and two guards suddenly burst into the room. The Master looked absolutely furious, though it was impossible to know why. His eyes flickered over to Reid and the Doctor and a horrifying smirk lit his features. He pointed a Reid and the guards moved quickly, clearly aware of the Master's ill temper and not wanting to do anything to turn his anger on them.

"Take him to the back," he said, his voice surprising steady and even despite the heated look.

"Wait a minute!" The Doctor rose up to his knees, tugging at the bonds on his wrists as the guards dragged a struggling Spencer out of the room. "Where are you taking him? What are you doing?! Stop!"

The Master, who was halfway to the door, turned and smirked at him, "Calm down, Doctor," he said, "You'll get your little pet back. I'm just going to spend a bit of alone time with him. Nothing to worry about."

The Doctor's hearts thudded hard in his chest as the doors shut loudly behind the Master and he screamed, a pained, horrified expression on his face.

"Spencer!"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Jack wished he were free so that he could pace. His legs ached from standing in the same position all day and all night. But the Master was apparently annoyed at the other escape attempts and had decided that this was the best way to make sure that they didn't happen again. Frustrated, he tugged on the manacles and shouted angrily at the ceiling.

Francine, Tish and Clive, who were all confined to the basement as well, didn't even bother looking up as he screamed. They'd gotten used to Jack venting his frustration at the empty air. Sometimes they even welcomed it. At least it meant they were all resigned to this fate. Fighting back openly wasn't often a good idea, but they fought back in little ways, anyway that they could even if it didn't really do anything to hinder the Master.

The sound of heels clicking on the metal floors alerted them to Lucy Saxon's arrival. Francine tensed and squared her shoulders, Clive stood and pushed Tish behind him and Jack stopped tugging on the chains, glaring straight ahead.

Surprisingly, Lucy was alone. She was pale and Jack noticed the faintest traces of a bruise on her jaw. He tried to muster up enough feeling to be concerned, but he couldn't. Her empty, cold eyes scanned the cell and then she peeked over her should and for the first time in a while Jack saw a sliver of real emotion in her eyes. Fear.

"I shouldn't be here," she said, her voice a low whisper, "But Harold is very unhappy…" Jack wasn't sure why she insisted on calling him "Harold" or sometimes "Harry" but she never did call him the Master, ever.

"Your friends," she turned those cold eyes directly on Jack, "the ones from Torchwood, they're alive."

"What?"

"Harold's furious. He sent Toclafane to your base, but they escaped…" she hesitated and looked down, "I thought you would like to know."

She started to turn and leave and Jack called out, "Wait!"

She paused and Jack frowned. He wasn't sure _why_ he'd called out to her, honestly, but she turned around with an expectant expression.

"…Why are you telling me this?"

There was a long pause before she lifted one should and let it drop, her voice as flat as usual when she responded. "Because they're your friends. And they're alive." Her lips twitched for a second and she took a deep breath.

"People are fighting back, you know. More than Harold will ever let on. I think they might win."

Clive and Francine glanced to Jack with bewildered expressions, but Jack wasn't sure what to say any more than they did. Lucy turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the floors as she went. Jack frowned, swallowing roughly and thinking over Lucy's words. His team was alive. They'd escaped. He felt his chest swell with relief, a small inkling of hope managing to work its way into him.

At the very least, they were still fighting.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **So, as I said, I hate writing action scenes so I hope that the Torchwood hub scene didn't suck too much. *sighs*

And I know it's a _bit_ of a stretch having Crowley in the same body as he was when he was introduced in season 5, but he's already been in the guy for at least 3 years anyway, likely longer so I figured "What the hell?" and decided he had to still be Mark Sheppard in my head.

And correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think we ever see Crowley flashing his demon eyes… Not that I remember at least. However, since all the Crossroads Demons we see have red eyes, and Crowley, at this point in time is "Kind of the Crossroads" I figured his eyes would be red.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Please, please review guys! Love it, hate it, wanna set it on fire I don't care, just please review!


	16. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 11

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **As usual, thank you to everyone for the reviews! You guys are fantastic and I love you all! Seeing as the new semester has started back (NOOOOOO!) I'm pretty proud of myself for getting this chapter up as fast as I did, even if it's slower than I like.

Anyway. Please, please review and let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Martha nearly landed on her face as she teleported to Lisbon, Portugal. She struggled to maintain her balance and brushed a stray hair from her face as she straightened up and looked around. It was early evening and she didn't see anyone around. Lisbon looked much like the UK had – sad and empty, a shadow of its former self.

She was outside of the Britannia Hotel. She had never been there before, but she could tell that it had once been a beautiful place. She was near the pool, which sat empty and neglected in front of the large and elegant building. It was completely dark, a few windows had been busted in and the lounge chairs were stripped of their cushions and turned over. Two sat broken at the bottom of the empty pool.

Large columns framed the entrance inside from the pool area. She let her eyes sweep up the building, wondering if there was anyone inside. The Master might have utilized the space for one of his work camps… But she saw absolutely no hint of light flicking from the windows or the busted door. The trees were dead and limp, their barks looking grey in the light as she edged her way around the pool side. She saw what she thought might've been blood stains and quickly looked away, not wanting to imagine what might've caused them.

Tucking the Vortex Manipulator into her coat, she stepped forward and kept her eyes open for any sign of Toclafane. She'd left Lestrade at the camp he was in back in London. He'd wished her luck and hugged her before she left.

She stepped over broken glass and through the door that hung from its hinges, wishing she could see better in the darkness. Inside the hotel was as quiet as the outside. A chill ran down her spine as she crept in. If nothing else, she could at least sleep for a couple of hours before starting to move again, though she had hoped there would be _someone_ here, even if it was a work camp, it was still someone.

There was broken glass scattered all over the floor, furniture shredded and broken littered around. In the darkness, Martha nearly stumbled over what she assumed had been an end table or a coffee table, though it was missing two legs and was covered in dust. It took her several minutes, but she eventually found a small couch and settled down on it, curling up and using her bag as a pillow.

She pulled the TARDIS key around her neck out and held it in her hands, sighing heavily as she stared at it. She held it close to her chest and closed her eyes, eventually drifting into a fitful sleep.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The tunnel was narrow and bits of dirt occasionally crumbled down the side of it as Sherlock led the way briskly. He glanced back at the group following him every few seconds, but didn't speak to them or otherwise acknowledge that they were even there.

"Sherlock," Tosh jogged a bit to keep up with his long strides, "Have you been down here before?"

"No, but I've heard of it," Sherlock said, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "UNIT has created several of these tunnels… Fox Holes, they call them. For fugitives. We can't stay long, especially with your injured friends. We'll have to wait until nightfall and be on the move again."

"On the move?" Jake called from behind them, "How the hell is John supposed to manage that on this leg?"

Sherlock didn't respond and Jake huffed, glancing at the shorter man. "You sure you're gonna be okay?"

"I'm fine," John insisted, though he was looking very pale and his voice was strained. He wasn't putting any weight on the injured leg any longer, leaving Jake to carry the burden. Thankfully, Jake was more than capable of carrying him along.

Owen was ignoring the conversation, tagging along at the back of the group now with Gwen in his arms. He kept glancing down at her, looking for any sign that she was going to wake up. He couldn't see the tell-tale rise and fall of her chest and hadn't been able to stop and check for a pulse yet… But she had to be alive. Of course she was alive; there was no other possible option, after all.

Ianto suddenly appeared at Owen's side, his eyes on Gwen's pale form. Owen scowled and tried to move around the other man, but Ianto surprisingly kept pace with him.

"Are you sure Gwen's going to be alright?"

"She's _fine_," Owen snapped, "Stop asking that!"

"Here we are!" Sherlock suddenly stopped and Tosh nearly ran into him as the tunnel widened into a large, round space. There were a couple of sleeping bags and a pile of blankets in the space. For two or three people it would've been fine, but with seven of them… It was going to be cramped.

Owen and Jake quickly lay Gwen and John down on the sleeping bags and Tosh went to work helping Jack cut away the torn fabric around John's bloody leg. Owen knelt beside Gwen and brushed her blood-matted hair from her face, wining at the side. Her eyes were closed and she was entirely limp. Cautiously, he pressed two fingers to her neck and waited, Ianto watching him intently while Tosh and Jake glanced up as well.

Pulling his hand away, Owen's face was bone white, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he leaned down, grabbing her hand and trying to find a pulse in her wrist. When he let go of her hand and it dropped down with a thud, Tosh felt new tears spark in her eyes.

Not Gwen… Not after all this…

Still not speaking, Owen leaned over Gwen, a horrifying gleam in his eyes as he began compressions on her chest, pausing and breathing into her mouth. No one knew what to say, everyone was deathly quiet as Jake tied a strip of fabric around John's leg to act as a tourniquet. He wanted to ask Owen to help with John, but something about the other man's face stopped him.

It was Ianto who finally stepped in, putting a hand on Owen's shoulder before he could begin another set of compressions. Owen froze and with frenzied eyes looked up at Ianto's face.

"Owen… she's gone…"

"No!" Owen jerked away from Ianto and shook his head, turning his face back to Gwen, "She can't be! There's still time to –"

"No there isn't," Sherlock's voice cut through Owen and he turned to glare at him. "She's dead. The only thing you're managing to do is break her ribs. There is no use trying to save a corpse."

Owen leapt to his feet and lunged at Sherlock, only stopped by Jake's quick action as he grabbed him and held him back.

"Shut up!" he screamed, "Shut the fuck up! Don't talk about her like that."

Sherlock sighed, "There is no point getting emotional," he said flatly, "In case you haven't noticed people are dying every single day in even more brutal ways than your Ms. Cooper. You need to accept the fact that she's dead and do something useful, like helping Tosh and Jake take care of John's grievous wound. There is, at least, still hope for _his _survival."

Owen wasn't even forming words anymore, just spluttering out noises that sounded vaguely like swears while Jake held him back to keep him from murdering Sherlock. It felt like an eternity before Owen seemed to run out of energy. He collapsed against Jake and the taller man let him go. After a long, loaded second where Owen glared at Sherlock with hate filled eyes, he wordlessly turned his attention to John's bloody leg.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Sam flinched at the sound of the gunshots and turned to look at Dean, who was holding his .45 in a white-knuckled grip, a stony look on his face. Henricksen had surged forward the second Dean lifted his gun, but he hadn't been fast enough to stop him and the bullets hit their mark, dead center in the demon's chest.

While Sam's attention was on his brother, Adam and Henricksen were both staring with open mouths at the man Dean had shot. The man's smirk was gone, replaced with an annoyed frown as he brushed off his suit jacket, three holes marring the expensive fabric.

"Damn it," he swore, "Do you know how difficult it is to find new suits in this shit-hole of a world?"

"What the hell…?" Henricksen swallowed, shaking his head. He had seen Dean fire the gun, had seen the man get hit and yet he was standing there, not even bleeding.

Sam sighed, "He's a demon," he said.

"Crossroads demon," Dean clarified, his voice tight and gruff, eyes locked on the demon.

"A demon…" Henricksen's voice was weak and lacked the hard edge of skepticism it had before as he stared at the man. Glowing red eyes, three bullet holes in his chest and not one single drop of blood… Nothing human could do that.

"Actually," his smug smirk was back and he took a step forward, ignoring the woman who looked like she was about to go into shock. "King of the Crossroads. Bit of a boring job, honestly, listening to whiny humans blather on about their problems. Of course, this new world order has made business very… lucrative. Take Mrs. Richardson," he suddenly turned and waved a hand toward the woman.

She let out a small gasp and clutched her arms tighter to her chest, her brown curls wild and unruly.

"Her husband died, kill in the Decimation, apparently. Now she wants him back –"

"And all it costs is her soul," Dean snarled.

"Well, yes," the demon nodded, "But I'm being rude. Name's Crowley. I already know you two, the infamous Winchesters. Big brother Dean…" He studied Dean for a moment and his lips curled into a pleased grin, "Don't you look pathetic? Not handling Daddy's death well, are we? And little Sammy… Or, not so little…"

"Spare us the mind games," Dean snapped, "Why don't you call your deal to an end, huh?"

Crowley snorted, "What are you going to do? Shoot me again? You can't kill a demon, boys."

Dean's finger tightened around the trigger like he planned to do just that, but Sam shook his head.

"Dean, you know it won't do anything,"

"It'll make me feel better," Dean muttered, but he lowered the gun. It was useless against a demon and he'd already wasted enough bullets on the bastard. He felt the flask of holy water inside his jacket pocket and glanced toward Sam, eyes darting toward the pocket meaningfully. His brother nodded and Dean slipped the gun back into his jeans.

"Well, sorry to interrupt, but I don't think I can just stand and watch while some girl pimps her soul to a demon –" his left hand reached into the pocket, but before he could pull the flask out he found himself flying through the air, Henricksen right beside him. Sam and Adam went in the opposite direction. The four of them found themselves pinned to trees lining the road, unable to move.

"Sorry," Crowley said, "Busy. I'll be with you in a moment…"

Henricksen was breathing heavily, turning his head to stare at Dean, trying uselessly to move his arms from where they were pinned by _something_.

"What the hell…?"

"Demons," Dean said, not turning to look at him, keeping his eyes on the girl and Crowley. "Told ya."

Henricksen swallowed, shaking his head. "Demons are real…"

Dean's lips twitched a bit, "Yeah, just like Shape Shifters and werewolves and ghosts…"

"Holy shit,"

"Yeah,"

Across the road, Sam was fighting against the invisible bonds, head pounding from slamming into the tree. Adam was entirely silent, his face pale and eyes wide. After a minute, Sam turned his head as far as he could to look at him and cleared his throat, "Adam? You okay?"

"Fine…" his voice was faint, "Just… trying to work through the whole… demon thing…"

Sam smiled, "Lot to take in, huh?"

"Little bit,"

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "Guess it would be…"

"What are we gonna do?"

"_You_ aren't gonna do anything; Dean and I will get you outta this. Don't worry."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It was late that night after almost everyone else had gone to bed and Tony just couldn't sleep. He hadn't had this much trouble sleeping in a few weeks, but he eventually gave up on sleeping altogether and quietly made his way into the living area. It was dark and quiet and he sat down at the table, frowning and playing with one of the small wooden chess pieces on the board that was still set up.

Ducky and Reid had played chess for a couple of hours before going to bed that night and hadn't put the board away. He lifted the black Knight and studied it. It was worn and chipped, like much of the stuff that they had, but in some spots the pain job still shone bright when the light hit it just the right way and the surface was mostly smooth.

He hated the nights when he couldn't sleep because that inevitably led to thinking. Usually about everyone who was gone. It usually revolved around Ziva. He still had nightmares about that day, about her stumbling into headquarters half dead and gasping for help. Her blood all over him as he tried desperately to get her down to Ducky in time. Her pale face, the terror in her eyes… He relived the entire experience and no matter how many times he saw her die, it always hurt like it was the first time.

McGee wasn't talking about it. Abby studiously avoided the subject as well and there was no way in Hell he was going to go to Gibbs about it – Gibbs hadn't handled Kate's death well and Tony didn't want to push too hard to see how Gibbs was really handling Ziva's.

He sometimes talked to Ducky about it, but he didn't mention the nightmares. He wasn't sure if he should or not, but he didn't exactly feel comfortable sharing that sort of thing with anyone anyway and so he was left to brood in silence.

The sound of footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Prentiss, looking tired and disheveled. She smiled a little whenever she spotted him sitting at the table.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Tony shrugged, "Nah. This hotel has some crappy sleeping arrangements,"

She laughed and slid into the chair opposite him, picking up one of the white chess pieces and turning it over in her hands just as he was the black piece.

"Yeah, I have nightmares too," she said quietly.

"How did you –"

"Profiler," she said, smiling. Then she looked down and stared at the piece in her hands – a small white pawn – and sighed.

"It's hard, isn't it? Going on and fighting after losing friends and family and not knowing who's gonna be next… There was another woman on our team, you know,"

Tony blinked, surprised. They never mentioned another woman before. None of them. Then again, he and the rest of his team never talked about Ziva either so…

"Her name was Jennifer… When… when the Toclafane attacked, we were all together and I… I was with her when she died…" there were tears in her eyes now. "Sometimes, I close my eyes and I can still see her face. She didn't deserve to go like that…"

For a long time, Tony wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, but he put the piece down and stared at his hands, taking a breath, "We had a woman on the team, Ziva… We hadn't heard from her all morning after the attacks…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Damn it!" Rufus swore and tossed the bottle into the trash bin. There went the last of his precious Johnny Walker Blue. Gordon looked over at the older man and frowned, shaking his head.

"You'd still have that if you didn't drink like a fish,"

Rufus narrowed his eyes at him, "Excuse me?"

Gordon just shrugged and went back to cleaning his rifle. He'd been doing that a lot, just sitting and cleaning his guns. If he didn't have anything else to do, that is. He and Martin would go out on hunts occasionally whenever Sam and Dean were gone and Sam and Dean would go out whenever Gordon and Martin were gone. If Rufus ever went out on a hunt, it was solo – he refused to hunt with anyone else, not Sam, not Dean not even Gordon.

Martin was fidgety and quicker on the trigger than Gordon liked and a couple of times Gordon had had to rely on only himself, which he was fine with. He too preferred to hunt alone, but was practical enough to know that in times like these hunting in pairs was essential.

The only one who would hunt with Garth was Martin and once or twice, Sam had. None of them thought Garth was real hunting material. He was gangly and uncoordinated and if you asked Gordon, not too bright either. But somehow he managed to keep himself alive.

"Man, when are Sam and Dean gonna be back?" Martin griped, picking through the food supply that was running dangerously low. They'd have to go on a food run soon.

"Three more days at least," Rufus said, standing from the rickety chair he was in and moving over to the liquor supply which was also dangerously low. He picked up a bottle of whiskey, made a face and put it back.

"Three days?" Garth entered the room, dressed in his loose jeans and an army jacket that was probably three sizes too big. "I thought they were gonna be back today?"

"Nah," Ash, who was sitting at his computer, beer bottle in one hand, shook his head. He spent most of his time on the homemade laptop. "They had to take a detour. Called a couple of hours ago."

"So that means they found the safe house?" Garth sounded excited as he sat down across from Ash.

"No," Gordon's voice was hard, "They found their long-lost brother."

"Brother?"

Ash looked up at Garth over the screen, "Yeah, Adam Milligan. Apparently, their daddy had a lady friend and they had a kid together. Sam and Dean ran into him or something. They didn't give me details, Dean just wanted to make sure it was legit."

"Is it?"

"Looks like it,"

Garth smiled, "Well, isn't that something? In the middle of this mess they get a new brother!"

Rufus eyed Garth like he was crazy, but didn't say anything.

"Yeah," Gordon muttered, "It's wonderful. They get to take time out of doing what's important to have a family reunion!" He sneered and rolled his eyes.

"Don't be like that," Garth said, "This is still good news, isn't it? Besides, maybe this Adam guy can help Sam and Dean find the safe house."

"They haven't been lucky so far,"

"If Sam and Dean can't find it, it probably isn't there. Their dad trained those boys well," Martina said.

Gordon snorted, but before he could say something else, Rufus spoke. "Alright, all of ya, just shut up. No use talking about this until the Winchesters get back. We've gotta go on a food run tomorrow. Who's going?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The Doctor didn't rest at all while Spencer was gone. He tried to calm himself down – the Master wouldn't _kill _him, surely – but horrible thoughts were racing across his mind and each seemed to be worse than the last. He was tempted to reach out telepathically to the young man, but thought better of it. The Master would have probably sensed that and who knew what he'd do then?

He spent the time trying to concentrate on infiltrating the Archangel network. Integrating himself into it without the Master noticing wouldn't be easy, but the Master was more preoccupied with running the world at the moment and that certainly did help at least a little.

It was difficult to concentrate, however, when he was worrying about what was happening to Spencer. By the time the guards finally dragged the young man back into the conference room, the Doctor was certain he was going to go insane thinking about what the Master had done. Spencer wasn't tugging against the guards as he had been when they'd been ordered to drag him out. The Doctor might've concluded that it was simply because he was being taken _away_ from the Master, but there was something in the way Spencer was moving that made him worry.

His eyes were on the floor, tear tracks marring his face. His fists were clenched tight and he was slumped over as much as he possibly could be. He avoided the Doctor's gaze as the guards chained him again and immediately tugged his knees into his chest, burying his face into his legs. It took a moment, but the Doctor was certain he heard him sobbing.

Something snapped inside the Doctor's chest and he very cautiously reached forward, putting a hand on Spencer's shoulder only to have Spencer jerk away from him violently.

"Spencer…" he kept his voice low and slid a little closer to him, "Are you alright?"

No answer.

"You can talk to me –"

"Don't," Spencer's voice was rough and garbled. "Just… don't."

The Doctor would've loved nothing more than to drop the subject, but his hearts were racing in his chest as he stared at Spencer and he couldn't just let him suffer alone.

"What… what did he do to you?" there was a hard edge to his voice this time as he thought about how much he hated the Master for whatever he had done to make Reid behave this way.

"I don't want to talk about it, Doctor," Spencer's voice was muffled by his knees, "Please. Don't ask."

"Spencer…"

"I said drop it!" Spencer finally looked up and the Doctor flinched. His hazel eyes were clouded and dark, tears trailing down his face. His left eye was a bit swollen and a new bruise was forming, but the Doctor couldn't see any other bruises anywhere.

Turning away, Spencer put his head back onto his knees and gripped his legs tightly, his entire body shaking as he continued to sob.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **TA-DA! Proof that I am going to Hell :P

Anyway, we shall see more Mentalist (and Psych) next chapter, promise.

First, what you think the Master did to Reid? Yeah, that's what he did.

Second, yes "Mrs. Richardson" is Amelia Richardson. Yes, I am so very tempted to have Crowley kill her.

Third, Gwen… Well… I feel bad, but… yeah.

Hope you enjoyed! Please, please review!


	17. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 12

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N:** And look at that! It's a new chapter! Finally. :D Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are fantastic!

*clears throat* Now… more bad things are coming in the near future so I hope you enjoy the fact that no one new is dead in this chapter.

Please, please review! Let me know what you think, even if you hate it!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

They'd spent an uncomfortable night in the fox hole. Owen didn't speak to anyone at all and John and Jake would only whisper quietly to Tosh. Sherlock didn't seem intent to say much either, which Ianto thought was probably a good thing. He knew Sherlock never said anything to intentionally piss people off – well, not most of the time anyway – but he didn't quite seem to understand the concept of "comforting" someone.

Gwen's body had been moved out into the narrow tunnel, wrapped in one of the sleeping bags. Tosh and Ianto had wrapped her carefully and Jake had moved her. Owen had glared at them all while they did. Tosh wasn't sure what to say and Ianto was still a bit numb. He didn't want to think about what would happen once the numbness wore off and Gwen's death really sank in. It was still so easily to look back to Gwen's smile after she, Owen, Jake and John had arrived in the Hub.

He could still remember the relief he'd felt whenever they'd appeared and to have her taken so quickly and brutally… He hadn't been prepared for that. He would normally have found something to busy himself with, cleaning or making coffee or tea or doing _anything_ to stop himself from thinking about Gwen. But there wasn't anything for him to do in the cramped little space. Well, not much at least.

He and Tosh had helped Owen see to John's wound. It was bad, but Owen had managed to stop the bleeding and while John was still in pain, at least he was conscious and breathing. They'd briefly discussed how they were going to get out of there without getting caught, moving with John's injury was going to prove difficult.

"Look, just don't worry about me," John had insisted, "I'll only slow you down."

"We're not just going to leave you here," Jake had refused to even consider the idea, insisting that he would never have left them behind. John joked that he already owed his life to Jake once, it hardly seemed fair to owe it to him twice.

"We'll figure something out," Tosh had assured him, glancing over at Owen anxiously. Owen just grunted, but Ianto assumed it was in the affirmative since he nodded his head a bit. Ianto wasn't sure what to expect from Owen at the moment, but he was sure that this silence was only leading up to something worse. Another violent outburst, perhaps a crippling depression…. Either way, Ianto kept glancing back over at the other man, not wanting to let him out of his sight in case he decided to erupt again.

"You know, John does have a point," Sherlock suddenly spoke. "We would travel much faster without an injured man,"

"We're not leaving him," Jake snapped, glaring up at Sherlock.

"So I gathered," Sherlock said, "I wasn't suggesting that we do. However, you seem to be more than capable of carrying him. It would certainly do his injured leg good to keep it out of use for the time being… We could possibly use one of the sleeping bags to function as a stretcher. Of course, we would also need to keep his injured leg stable, but I do think it's possible…"

"That's not half bad," Jake said, standing, "We could do that…"

Ianto sighed in relief as he stood as well. Finally, something to do to distract himself.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Lassiter assigned himself the job of watching over Juliet during the night. Spencer and Henry didn't sleep much, but Lassiter refused to sleep at all. Not until he got to know these people better. Maybe they weren't working for the Master, but that didn't make them any more trustworthy. There were plenty of people willing enough to turn over fugitives to the Master, particularly if they had family or friends who were being held.

He kept his gun ready in his hands, turning suspicious eyes on anyone who came close. Juliet was pale, but he was happy to see that a bit of color seemed to have returned to her cheeks. At the very least, she didn't look quite so similar to a corpse anymore.

It wasn't until the sun rose again that the doctor woman who'd treated her arrived. She looked like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep, but then, no one really did these days. She checked Juliet's wound and checked her pulse. She looked relived, but didn't really saying anything to him other than good morning. She seemed to sense his edginess and paranoia and left him alone.

"Hey, wait," Spencer was sitting up, just waking from one of his forty-minute sleep intervals. The doctor woman turned with an expectant frown and Spencer took his time scrubbing at his eyes before continuing.

"You said you're Grace Holloway, right? The Dr. Holloway from the Wanted List?"

Lassiter straightened up a bit, trying not to look too much like he was listening to the conversation. Grace smiled a bit and nodded, "That's me," she said.

"So…" Spencer frowned, "What'd you do to get on the List? Everyone's done something…"

"That's a long story," she said, "Let's just say, I had the unfortunate luck of meeting the Master before…"

"Really?" Lassiter wasn't even pretending to not listen any longer. He sat forward, elbows on knees and met Dr. Holloway's eyes with his own piercing stare. She seemed a little surprised at the gaze, but nodded.

"I'll tell you tonight," she promised, "I've got two sick kids who need me right now…"

She hurried back down the hall and Lassiter frowned, mulling that over for a long moment before Spencer's voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"See, Lassie," he said, "I told you we could trust these people. If they've got someone on the Wanted List already here, they're not gonna betray us."

Lassiter grumbled, but had to admit he had a point there. He still kept a vigilant eye on everyone coming and going, but he put his gun on his belt rather than hold it in his hands. Whenever the blond man from the night before – Patrick, Lassiter reminded himself – came and told them that they could eat breakfast in the dining are, Spencer and his father followed him, but Lassiter chose to stay with Juliet until one of them came back.

It was nearly dusk and Lassiter had still rarely moved from his partner's side. Finally, one of the men from the night before – Wayne - showed up and cast a worried eye over Juliet before turning to them.

"Grace said you were looking for some people?" he asked.

"Yeah," Spencer sat up, "My friend, Burton Guster… Have you heard anything about him?"

Wayne frowned and shook his head, "That name doesn't sound familiar," he said, "But I can ask around."

Lassiter sighed heavily, "It's been over two weeks, Spencer," he said, "It's probably time to look at this realistically –"

"He's not dead," Spencer snapped and the look in his eye made Lassiter feel just a bit guilty. But he was right. Guster had been on a food run with McNab two weeks ago. They were attacked by Toclafane and got separated. McNab had made it back to their camp, injured but alive. Spencer had insisted they go looking for Guster and Henry wouldn't let him go alone and Juliet volunteered and Lassiter didn't want to let his partner go out there alone. He knew Vick would be able to keep the camp in order without him for a while, but they'd been searching for a week and a half and there was no sign of Guster. He didn't know any other way to make Spencer realize the odds were against them finding his friend alive.

Wayne was giving Spencer the same half sympathetic, half guilty look Lassiter was.

"Well keep an eye out for anything. At midnight tonight we're heading back out toward Pasadena. A friend of ours is at a work camp there and we're gonna try to bring her back."

Lassiter's eyes lit up at the mention of a mission, but he glanced toward the still unconscious Juliet. He didn't want to leave her alone here with people he wasn't entirely sure he trusted yet. Suddenly, Henry was at his side.

"You know, Shawn and I can take care of her," he said, "You've been sitting here all day."

Lassiter thought it over before turning back to Wayne, "Mind if you have another pair of hands?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Is there coffee?" McGee was the second one up that morning, stumbling into the common area. His leg was still giving him a bit of trouble, but for the most part it only started to really hurt if he did too much at once.

Abby was already in the kitchen area, rifling through the food supplies they'd gotten last night. Mostly dry cereals and any canned goods that they could find. The one "luxury" they tried to make sure they had was coffee. In a house full of former law enforcement agents, coffee was essential, especially for Gibbs. McGee shuddered to think of the day when Gibbs had been forced to go without his coffee.

It wasn't pretty.

"Yeah," Abby nodded, not turning around to face him, "Just brewed a pot. But remember, leave some for Gibbs."

"I know, I know," he sighed as he poured a small mug of coffee. These days, they all drank it black. He would've preferred to add sugar and milk, but that was almost always out of the question, so he made due. At least he had coffee.

"Did Garcia get anywhere yesterday with "Dr. Badass"?" he asked, referring to the other hacker that she and Abby had come across recently. They hadn't been able to make contact, whoever Dr. Badass was, they were playing things very close to the vest.

"Not yet," Abby said, "But I can't blame the guy for not trusting us. They'll come around eventually…"

McGee sighed and shook his head, "Ever feel like we're just sort of going through the motions these days?" he asked, "Not getting much done?"

Abby frowned, leaning back against the counter. Her black hair was, as usual, pulled tight into pigtails, but she wasn't wearing makeup like she used to. It wasn't exactly a priority at the moment. McGee thought the lack of makeup made her look nicer, definitely not quite as… severe as she looked with the black lipstick and the dark eyeliner.

"We're working on it, McGee," she said, "Things like this take time and patience, remember?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "Well it seems like we don't have much time for patience and waiting whenever there's a psychotic dictator killing everyone we care about and forcing everyone else into slave labor building his weapons for him."

"Well I'm an optimist," Abby said, "Don't give up when we've barely even started!"

He smiled a little and took a sip of his coffee. She did have a point, he supposed. He was just tired of feeling useless while people were dying every day because of the Master and there was so little that they could really do to help. After over a month, they'd barely made any progress in figuring out how to kill the Master and still hadn't managed to crack Archangel. He knew they would figure it out eventually, but in the meantime, people were still dying.

Gibbs and Ducky entered the kitchen a few moments later, Gibbs looking like he hadn't slept at all the previous night. Without a word, he went to the coffee pot and poured a full glass, leaving without saying anything. McGee smiled a bit at the sight of it, glad that even in times like this, some things didn't change. Like Gibbs and his coffee, Abby and her optimism, Ducky and his avid storytelling. It was things like that, that gave McGee a reason to keep waking up in the mornings.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Psst! _Psst!_ _Cassie!_"

Castiel frowned and turned toward the low hissing voice, spotting Balthazar near the hedge of the trees. At the moment, Castiel wasn't at his post. He had asked Uriel to watch the Winchesters for a while so that he could seek Revelation about what to do about Adam Milligan.

He'd spoken to Michael about it, and Michael assured him that Adam had no part to play in their plans and wasn't important. More importantly, he wasn't a threat, which was good. Castiel was glad then that Dean and Sam were able to reunite with their brother, though he was confused as to why Dean was so upset about it.

Whenever he'd left his post, the Winchesters had come upon a crossroads demon who called himself Crowley. Though Castiel knew they had faced many demons before, he always worried that perhaps one day they wouldn't be able to fight off a demon, but Crowley didn't seem to want to kill them. At least, not yet. Strange, for a demon. He heard whispers, watching the brothers, about another Plan, involving Sam Winchester, that had been set in motion by a powerful demon.

Michael told him it was of no concern. Sam, while important, was not the angels' main concern. It was Dean the angels needed.

He was currently in his favorite place in Heaven, the grass was green and the sky was blue and the autistic man whose Heaven it was, was idly flying a kite, smiling up at the sky. Castiel came here to be alone and think often.

He spotted Balthazar crouching amongst the trees and moved toward him, frowning.

"Balthazar, what -?"

"Shh!" his brother hissed and glanced anxiously at the sky. "I've spotted him again. Tricky bastard, but I spotted him. Chicago, Illinois. He's hiding out in a safe house. I still don't know who it is, he's doing a good job making sure we don't know he's there at all."

Castiel felt a spark of something he'd never felt before. Perhaps this was the equivalent of a human adrenaline rush. He wasn't sure, but he felt more of edge. What he was about to do was tantamount to treason. Disobedience was no acceptable and he had already been warned about venturing to Earth. He had been forgiven for his previous departures because he had reason to attempt to save their lives, but this… He was deliberately hiding the existence of another angel. If he were caught, he would not be so easily forgiven.

There was a good chance he'd be killed for his disobedience. He hesitated and Balthazar looked at him, frowning a bit.

"Well? What are you going to do, Cas? Take the news up to the top or… figure out what it is that's really going on?"

Castiel thought about it, frowning to himself. He really didn't know what to do. His entire life, he had orders and he followed them. That was the way things went. This was disobedience. This was wrong. And yet, something inside of him told him that there was something wrong, and he needed to find out what it was. He was uncomfortable disobeying, but he was more uncomfortable standing by and not knowing why he was told not to interfere.

Balthazar waited, watching curiously to see what Castiel would do. Then, in less time than it takes to blink, Castiel was gone and Balthazar smiled.

"Atta boy, Cassie," he said to himself, "Knew you could do it."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Reid didn't speak at all the entire day, staying huddled against the wall, head on his knees for hours. The Doctor could tell whenever he dozed off a couple of times, because then his breathing relaxed just a bit. It never lasted long before Spencer was jolting himself awake, screaming because of whatever nightmare was plaguing him.

He wanted to reach out telepathically and help him, but when he'd tried earlier, he'd felt Spencer's terror at the invading force and decided not to bother until Spencer was calmed down again. Which didn't look to be anytime soon. He'd seen Jack earlier that morning, but not for very long. The Master had spent an hour enjoying Jack curse at him while he shoved electrodes into different parts of his body, but he seemed to get bored of that rather quickly and Jack was returned to his cell.

The Master hadn't spoken to Spencer at all yet and said very little to the Doctor, seeming to still be upset about whatever it was that had put him in a mood the day before. He swept in and out of the room, usually with Lucy tailing behind him like a lost puppy. Every now and again, Lucy's eyes would travel over to where Spencer was and the Doctor thought he saw the faintest spark of emotion there, before she quickly looked away.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon that the Master entered with the guards and had the Doctor dragged out into another room. The Master stayed behind for nearly half an hour, but the Doctor couldn't hear what was going on in the conference room and could only hope that Reid was okay…

"What did you do to him?" The Doctor snarled the second the Master entered the room. The Doctor was sitting in a chair, his hands cuffed behind his back, glaring at the Master as he smirked.

"To who?" the Master asked, spinning a chair around and straddling it, still grinning brightly at the Doctor. The Doctor narrowed his eyes and the Master chuckled, "Oh, right, your little pet. Spencer…"

He made a show out of tilting his head thoughtfully, "Well, I've done quite a lot to him, Doctor, I'm afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific if you want a better answer." He grinned at him, flashing his teeth and the Doctor hissed, tugging at the cuffs on his hands.

"What did you do to him last night?" he snapped, "Why isn't he speaking to me?"

The Master's eyes widened in delight, "He isn't? Brilliant, I hadn't expected that. If I'd known he'd react that way, I probably wouldn't have waited so long…"

"Waited so long to _what_?" the Doctor was getting angry now, little voices in the back of his mind whispering all sorts of bad things that the Master could've done to Spencer. He didn't like the thought of any of them and shoved them away, desperately waiting for an answer.

The Master's eyes glittered, clearly he was enjoying this. "Don't you want to guess? Come on, Doctor, it'll be fun! Like a game. Just guess and I'll tell you what I did to him,"

The Doctor slumped back in his seat, shaking his head. "No," he said, "I'm not playing any games. Tell me!"

The Master shrugged, "Well then, I guess you'll never know," he said, "With any luck, maybe Spencer will tell you, but he's probably not going to want to admit anything to you. Humans are such shy things…"

The Doctor's stomach dropped, but he kept his face as stone-like as he could, glaring at the Master. The Master laughed and leaned forward a bit in the chair, "Now, down the business… I've heard your other little pet, Miss Jones, has been on the move…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **I know it's a bit shorter than the usual chapter, but it's still fairly decent and you'll hear from Sam and Dean and Martha next chapter. Crowley was being a pain…

I'm also trying to think of anyone Martha could meet in Portugal, so if anyone has any suggestions, let me know and I'll consider it!

Hope you enjoyed! Please, please review!


	18. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 13

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **And finally I'm back with a new chapter. Partly, the delay was because of school work and partly it was because my muse became obsessed with updating my other fic, "Of Love Songs and Old Movies" and I wrote like 5 or 6 chapters inside of two weeks for it. Which amazed me to no end.

But anyway. New chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!

(Also, holy crap! Over 100,000 words! That's a record for me!)

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Martha awake to someone gently shaking her shoulder, hearing her name being gently whispered. She scrunched her face up and tried to shove the hand away for a moment, muttering to herself.

"Not now, Mum," she grumbled.

"Mum?" the voice rose to a higher pitch, "Martha, you're dreaming." She was suddenly being shaken harder and her eyes snapped open.

"Oh gosh!" she sat up so fast she nearly knocked down the other woman bending down over her. Shaking, she ran a hand through her hair, the last warm memories of her dream vanishing as she looked around the destroyed lobby of the Britannia Hotel where she had slept the night before.

The woman stumbled back a few steps, "Sorry," she said. "Are you alright, Martha?" a gentle hand was placed on her shoulder for a second before it was awkwardly pulled away and Martha looked up, blinking into the familiar face.

"Molly?" she had to scrub her eyes a few more times to make sure that she wasn't seeing things. Nope. Standing in front of her was definitely Molly Hooper, the skinny young woman she'd gone to medical school with. Her brows scrunched together in confusion.

"What the hell are you doing in Portugal?"

"Oh," Molly blinked, looking around awkwardly, "Well, I'm sure you know how it is these days. The Master has every doctor travelling around. There are a lot of people out here that need healing. I got sent here."

"…You're working for the Master?"

Molly pressed her lips together, "Sort of… I mean, well, not willingly of course, but I don't really have a choice, everything is just –"

"Molly, it's alright," Martha smiled a bit, standing, "I understand. Believe me."

The young woman smiled, "Heard about you," she said, "In the Master's broadcasts. Everyone thinks you can do something about what's happening…. Can you? I mean, stop him?"

"I hope so," Martha sighed heavily.

Molly took a deep breath, "Technically, I'm supposed to turn you in the second I see you," she said, "But don't worry, I didn't. I mean, well, I couldn't, could I? You're my friend. And it's not like I want the Master to rule the entire world. I'm rooting for you, you know?"

She was probably going to say something else, but Martha suddenly hugged her tightly, closing her eyes.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you, Molly," she whispered.

Molly smiled brightly for a second, then her smile faded, "You should probably go," she warned her, "There are guards patrolling this area heavily and we certainly don't them to find you here."

"No, we don't," she agreed, snatching up her bag and slinging the strap over her shoulder. She hesitated and frowned, "Are you staying near here?"

"There's a camp," Molly nodded, "A few blocks away… It's just me and a couple of other doctors and a few people too sick to work. I'm sure they wouldn't mind hiding you until night if you want."

Martha smiled, "That'd be perfect, Molly, thank you!"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Dean grunted, struggling against the invisible bonds that held him in place. He turned his eyes away from the nervous young woman who was speaking to Crowley. He heard Sam telling her that it wasn't worth it, trying to get her to back out of the deal, but then Crowley lifted his hand and Sam's words were cut off by a strangled, choking sound as he gasped for breath.

Crowley smirked and lowered his hand, satisfied whenever Sam gulped for air.

"Better? Good, now how about you keep out of my business transactions, eh?"

Sam narrowed his eyes at him, but wisely said nothing this time. Crowley turned back to the shaken woman. She seemed nervous, but despite the demon's displays of power, she continued with her deal, asking for her husband's resurrection in exchange for her own soul.

Sam and Dean both looked away as the deal was sealed – Crowley snatching the woman's head and forcing a kiss onto her lips. She shoved back, gasping a bit and stumbling. She landed on her butt, looking stunned for a moment. Crowley smirked down at her, winking flirtatiously.

"Well, I've had better," he shrugged, "But…" he lifted his hands and Sam, Dean, Adam and Henricksen fell from where they'd been suspended. "Consider hubby alive and kicking. Wherever you buried him."

"But…" the woman stumbled for a moment and jerked up to her feet, "That's over 400 miles away!"

Crowley shrugged, "Deal's a deal, sweetheart. Don's alive and your soul is mine. I'll see you again in ten years." He turned on his heel, ignoring her as she stared with wide, still somewhat terrified eyes, at them.

"Now," Crowley frowned, tilting his head, "What to do about the Winchesters…?" he pursed his lips thoughtfully and watched in amusement as Sam and Dean struggled to their feet. Sam shoved Adam behind him, but Henricksen stood next to Dean with a strangely similar look of contempt and anger on his face.

He huffed, "I can't really kill you, I suppose," he sounded disappointed and Sam frowned.

"Why can't you kill us?"

"Big plans for you, Sammy," he eyed Sam's tall frame up and down, "Surely Yellow Eyes told you that?"

Sam's throat tightened and he glanced over at Dean, "What sort of plans?"

"Well, you probably won't like them," he said, "Best keep you in the dark for the time being. Personally, not a fan of these plans myself…" he shrugged, "But then, I can probably use that to my advantage one day. See you later, boys. Have fun surviving Armageddon!"

He was gone before Sam or Dean could react. They stood there in silence, Mrs. Richardson's heavy breathing the only thing they could hear for several seconds.

"That… That how all demons react?"

"No," Dean frowned, "Definitely not."

He glanced over toward his brother – brother_s_ – and frowned. Sam looked pale and confused and Dean knew him well enough to recognize the hundreds of unanswered questions that were spinning through his mind. Probably the same ones that he was thinking about. He felt that familiar pang of guilt as he remembered his father's dying words. He quickly shoved those thoughts away and turned to Adam and Henricksen.

"You two alright?"

Henricksen wiped his hand over his face, shaking his head. "Yeah…" he swallowed roughly, "Yeah."

Sam slowly approached the young woman who hadn't moved yet from where she was standing in the middle of the road. She stepped back whenever Sam reached out toward her. He pulled his hand back and pressed his lips together.

"It's okay," he said, "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm Sam, that's my brother Dean and my brother Adam… And, uh… That's Agent Henricksen. What's your name?"

She took a deep breath, "Amelia," she said, "Amelia Richardson."

For just a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something else, but then she stopped and looked around the empty place with wide eyes.

Dean was suddenly at Sam's side, pulling him away, "Well, nice to meet you Amy. Have fun explaining to your husband why he's a zombie and you're going to Hell. We've got to go –"

"Wait, Dean," Sam tugged his arm out of Dean's grasp, "Come on, we can't just leave her here,"

"Why not?" Dean demanded, only pausing to give Amelia a cursory glance, "She got here on her own, she can get back to wherever she was the same way."

She let out a worried whimper and Sam sighed, "Come on, Dean, you're really gonna just leave her out here alone with Toclafane wandering around? She could die."

"She just sold her soul," Dean said, "Don't think dying is her main concern."

"Dean," Sam frowned, shaking his head, "We have to help her."

"Says who?"

"Come on," Henricksen joined in, "Can't we at least get her to a safe house?"

Dean glanced back at her and grumbled, "Fine," he said, "You can tag along until we get to the next safe house, but then you gotta go."

"Thank you," her voice was quiet and she smiled a bit, but her eyes were watering like she wanted to cry. Sam smiled at her and put an arm around her shoulder, leading her toward the car with Henricksen in front of him. Dean hung back for a moment, shaking his head at the sight. Adam frowned and glanced over at him.

"Why don't you want to help her out?" he asked.

Dean scowled, "She didn't want our help when she pimped her soul to a demon," he snapped, walking briskly ahead of the young man, muttering to himself as he got behind the wheel in the old car and slammed the door shut.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Lucy Saxon eased her way into the conference room, glancing over her shoulder every couple of seconds to be absolutely certain that her husband was nowhere in sight. She knew he had only just begun questioning the Doctor, but Harry had a way of popping up out of nowhere. It had never really bothered her before, but now it made her heart race in her chest at the very thought of it.

The room was empty except for Spencer Reid, who sat curled up against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. A heavy chain around his ankle held him in place, but Lucy suspected that the chain wasn't necessary at the moment. The guards outside paid her no mind. They hardly even glanced at her at all, actually. She didn't blame them. For a while they'd regarded her with the same mixture of fear and contempt that they had Harry, but as time went by they simply ignored her altogether unless she spoke to them.

She gently shut the door and her heels clicked against the floors as she approached the huddled young man. He didn't acknowledge her approach at all until she reached him. Eyes wide, her hand shook just a bit as she reached down and touched his shoulder.

He jerked from beneath her touch and his head snapped eyes, eyes dark and watery, one eye bruised and swollen. His lips parted a bit, like he was getting ready to say something, but the words died in his throat whenever Lucy knelt and unlocked the chain around his ankle.

"…What are you doing?"

Her lips quivered just a bit as she stared into his wide hazel eyes. She didn't answer the question at first, instead gripping his forearm and ignore the shudder her touch sent through him.

"Harold is busy," she said, "But I doubt you'll have much time. I thought you might like a shower."

His chest rose and fell rapidly and she relaxed her grip on his arm, "He won't be happy if he catches us," she added.

He hesitated to follow her and Lucy cast her eyes down to the ground, "It's this way,"

She started walking, not bothering to see if he was behind her or not. His timid voice called after her and she froze.

"Why are you doing this?"

She didn't know the answer to that question. She turned to face him again, her expression entirely blank, but her eyes, an icy color, sparked with some deeper emotion. She couldn't say why she wanted to help the young man, but her heart felt sick at the thought of him sitting here alone, not even being allowed to clean himself up after what had happened. Even the other women were given that much.

"Harold could come back at any moment," she said finally. "We must hurry."

She turned again and this time, heard his slow and shaky footsteps behind her. A tiny smile of relief twitched on her lips, but she forced it away, instead reshaping her expression into its usual blank mask.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Chicago was desolate. Castiel frowned, narrowing his eyes as he stood outside of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. He scanned the building's perimeter, spotting a few men stationed in the upper-sections of the building. They were eyeing him suspiciously, but a second later he was gone.

He reappeared in the large common area of the building, surrounded by a small group of people. At his sudden appearance, they all froze and several men stood, pulling out guns and pointing them at the stranger.

"What the hell?" one young man, standing closest to Castiel, frowned. The gun was shaking in his hand as he scanned the battered trench coat and suit.

Castiel ignored them, scanning the crowd of people for the angel that Balthazar had told him was here. Even in human vessels, angels easily recognized each other – which only made him wonder how this angel had hidden his identity from them in Heaven. Everyone appeared human.

He didn't even realize the people growing more nervous around him. He turned slowly, ignoring their suddenly demanding questions, wondering where the other angel is. He could _feel_ his presence. The power thrummed off of him and called to Castiel, but he still couldn't tell who he was. Unaware of the humans who were getting ready to pull the triggers on their weapons, Castiel considered asking them where the angel was.

But they would probably not know.

He suddenly turned toward the young man nearest him, starting to say something whenever a voice behind him made everyone freeze.

"Castiel," the voice sounded both vaguely amused and also tight with worry.

"You know him?" the young man nearest him gestured with the gun and Castiel turned slowly to see the other man. He wasn't particularly tall, but he had a strange smirk on his face and held himself with assurance and a bit of arrogance. This, Castiel knew, was the angel. He squinted, frowning. He was vaguely familiar, but even looking at him now, Castiel wasn't able to identify him. He must be powerful indeed if Castiel didn't immediately know him.

The man's lips twitched a bit, "Sure," he said, "He's my brother. Excuse us…"

He snapped his fingers and suddenly Castiel found himself standing amongst a group of frozen people. He tilted his head, studying the angel, trying to place him. And then it hit him.

"…Gabriel,"

Gabriel smiled, eyes flashing brightly. "It's been a while," he said, "How'd you find me?"

"Balthazar," Castiel started to explain, but Gabriel just rolled his eyes.

"Of course. Never did know to mind his own business,"

Castiel frowned, "…How are you…?"

"What? Alive?"

He nodded and Gabriel just shrugged. "Well it wasn't easy," he said, "But I made myself my own little Witness Protection Program. Now, thanks to you, my cover's blown. Guess I'll have to find myself a new face…"

"The other angels do not know I'm here," Castiel said, eyeing Gabriel with a frown. He hadn't been close to Gabriel in Heaven, but of course, the archangels tended to stick together, particularly after Lucifer's fall. Everyone, including Michael, had assumed Gabriel had been killed during the war.

"Really?" Gabriel's lips twisted up into a grin and he waved his hand, conjuring a large chair which he flopped casually down on. Another appeared behind Castiel, but Castiel remained standing, still eyeing the archangel with a frown. Gabriel shrugged and snapped his fingers, a table laden with chocolate bars suddenly appearing to his right and on his left hand, a bright red Ring Pop. He stuck the candy into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment and eyeing Castiel curiously.

"Then to what do I owe this visit, _Bro_?"

Castiel hesitated. He had not expected an archangel… He had known the angel hiding must be powerful, but he could not understand why Gabriel would have faked his death and fled from Heaven. He tilted his head.

"I need your help,"

Gabriel snorted, "_My_ help? Sorry, Cas, no can do. Kinda got my own thing going down here. Don't want to get mixed up in any family arguments."

"But…" Castiel hesitated, "Something is… _wrong_. Here, on earth. Surely you've noticed it."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, "You mean time going all fuzzy?" he asked, nodding slowly as he stuck the Ring Pop into his mouth again. Before Castiel could say anything else, he continued. "I've noticed. It's like looking at a double image, isn't it? Two timelines, overlapping each other. Doesn't make any sense. Kinda gives you a headache, huh? Sorry, still can't help."

Castiel frowned, "The other archangels aren't doing anything,"

Gabriel's smile was a bit bitter, "Of course they aren't," he said, "It's only their job, right? But I guess, with Daddy's little Plan being set in motion, they've got bigger things on their minds."

"You are an archangel –"

"Correction," Gabriel leaned over and grabbed one of the candy bars, ripping the wrapper off of it, "I _was_ an archangel. Not anymore. Told you, Witness Protection, Castiel. Sort of implies that I didn't want to be found."

"Why not?"

Gabriel blinked, stunned silent for a moment. Then a somewhat bitter laugh escaped his lips, "Why not?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Because… Heaven was like Hell," Castiel's eyes widened at the comparison and Gabriel just smiled at him. "Don't worry, you'll see it too one day. There's nothing up there for me but petty arguments that never get settled and rules I didn't want to follow… So I made myself a new life. Got a new face, and I've been happy hiding down here for a very long time."

"I don't understand,"

"Of course you don't," Gabriel shrugged, falling silent for a moment. "Wish I could help, really," he said, "But no. I'm not sticking my neck out for those jackasses to find me. If the world ends, it ends. But you shouldn't worry so much. It's not gonna end."

Castiel's brows furrowed in confusion, "How do you know that?"

Gabriel smiled, "It's not part of the Plan," he said. He snapped his fingers again and suddenly Castiel found himself standing alone in the warehouse. He had no idea where Gabriel was, or what he had done with the people who had been here… but now they were all gone. Frowning, Castiel looked toward the ceiling and vanished, reappearing in Heaven once more, unsure of where to turn next.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Jane, maybe you should sit this out," Rigsby glanced into the backseat of the car where the blond man sat. O'Laughlin and Lassiter were already outside of the car, guns ready in case they needed them. Van Pelt frowned and followed Rigsby's gaze.

"He's probably right," she agreed. Jane looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. His hair was stuck up in odd angles and his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark, heavy bags. He was pale and far too thin.

"You don't look so great, Patrick,"

Jane scowled at them and shook his head, pointedly holding up the 9 mm. that they had provided him with for this trip.

"Grace, do you really think I came all this way just to wait in the car?" he demanded. "I'm going in. I have to see Lisbon. I have to."

The redhead sighed and nodded, "I guess we can't stop you,"

"Grace!" Rigsby frowned at her, "We talked about this."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, "Tie him up and leave him here?"

Rigsby glanced back at Jane, thoughtfully eyeing his friend. "It would be a good place to start,"

She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car, "Sorry," she said, "Patrick's a grown man. We can't just refuse to let him go in with us if he wants to. Lisbon is his friend as much as yours, Wayne."

He grumbled to himself as he too stepped out of the car, "Fine," he said, "But you stay close to me, Jane," he warned, "If things get bad, you don't have the experience to get out of a fire fight without getting injured and Lisbon will kill me if I let anything happen to you."

Jane made a face, but didn't protest again, instead remaining uncharacteristically silent as O'Laughlin, Lassiter, Van Pelt and Rigsby talked about how they were going to get into the camp. They had parked the car about three miles away, hidden from view and walked the rest of the distance to avoid detection.

It was dark in Pasadena, the human guards all gone inside after the curfew. Only Toclafane patrolled the area and there didn't seem to be many to dodge in this area of the city. That, at least, was on their side.

The work camp was in a small office building, the lights glowing dimly from where they stood just off the road. They didn't want to risk flashlights in the city, so they were glad to have some form of light to see by. Each of them held their weapon in steady hands – except Jane, who had only handled a gun briefly in the lessons that Van Pelt had given him earlier. She had told him that his aim was surprisingly very good, but the weapons still felt so _wrong_ in his grasp. He hated the feel of it, its weight, its cold metal resting against his skin.

It felt like he was holding onto a bomb that was about to explode. His skin crawled at the thought, but he was more than willing to use it if push came to shove. For Lisbon, there was very little he wasn't willing to do.

He followed Rigsby's order and stayed as close to him as he could as they slipped quietly through the chain-link fence and approached the building. The night was still and quiet. Jane's just clenched as they found and entrance. Lassiter, whose wide blue eyes were bright with a strange sort of excitement, easily picked the lock and the door swung open silently.

Their footfalls sounded extremely loud as they entered. Everyone was apparently asleep. They passed through the empty common area and cooking area and O'Laughlin suddenly whistled, pointing emphatically toward a large section where there were about two dozen people sleeping, wrapping in blankets, on the floor.

Jane's quick eyes scanned the heads, looking for the familiar dark hair of his friend. After a moment, he felt himself growing discourage and then he saw her. He nearly had to clamp his own hand over his mouth to keep from crying out, but he pointed eagerly toward her before taking off without another word.

"Jane!" he heard Rigsby hiss at him, but ignored it in favor of getting to Lisbon sooner. He knelt next to her and wasted absolutely no time grabbing her by the shoulder and shaking her, careful to stick his hand over her mouth to muffle her surprised gasp. She fought for a second before her green eyes landed on her assailant she stilled. Jane waited a second, until he was absolutely certain she wouldn't scream, and removed his hand.

As soon as he did, she sat up, bleary-eyed, and punched him in the arm.

"You ass," she hissed, keeping her voice low. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He quirked his lips into that familiar smile that Lisbon had missed so much. "Rescuing you," he hissed back, eyes sparkling. She rolled her eyes at him and Jane felt his heart swell at the sight. Lisbon was okay. More than okay, she was _Lisbon_. She was a little thinner, her cheeks hollow and her eyes dark and somber, but it was her. His Lisbon. He had to struggle against the urge to hug her.

Lisbon, apparently, saw no reason to struggle and before he knew what had happened, her arms were around his neck, squeezing so tightly he wasn't sure she wasn't trying to kill him.

"Missed you too," he joked, disentangling them, "But we should get going. Don't want to wake anyone else, huh?"

She laughed quietly and shook her head, "Yeah," she sighed and quietly shuffled her way to her feet, leaving the blanket behind. Her eyes scanned the sleeping bodies until she found Rigsby and the others and she smiled. "Let's go then."

They made it out just as easily as they had made it in. Everything was eerily quiet. As soon as they made it past the fence, Lisbon began asking questions, first about the safe house and about what had happened with them since the Decimation, then about Jane and what he thought he was doing holding a gun.

They were halfway to the car, far away from the camp, by that point.

"Well," Jane shrugged, "They wouldn't let me come unless I had a weapon."

She sighed, reaching over and taking the gun from him, "Smart, I suppose," she said, "But don't ever let me see you with a gun in your hand, Jane. It doesn't suit you." He smiled, about to say something else when suddenly Lassiter grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him forward.

"Run! Toclafane!"

And sure enough, he heard the faint humming of the floating, whirring machines.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Did I end it there? Yeah.

So… Not sure how I did with Molly Hooper (from "Sherlock" in case you didn't know) …I kinda feel like she was strangely channeling Gwen from Merlin… Hope she wasn't out of character…

…Yeah, I rescued Lisbon to have them attacked by Toclafane. I'm mean that way.

And… Amelia. Normally, I wouldn't tell you guys this, but… The ONLY reason she is still alive is because Crowley wouldn't kill her. (Something about it being stupid to kill the woman who'd sold her soul to him and Hell having "integrity" or whatever. It was very annoying). I usually try to be unbiased about these things, but Amelia doesn't get that fair treatment because I said so.

Anyway, I'm kind of in love with writing Lucy Saxon at the moment. She just keeps getting more interesting…

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please, please review and let me know!


	19. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 14

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **Well it took me a while, and I'm very sorry for that, but I finally got this chapter written! What's it been? Two weeks? Jeesh. Anyway. Hope you enjoy! We've got a bit of action coming again! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed! You're awesome and I love you!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

The air was charged with tense desperation as the small group turned and raced away from the Toclafane. Lisbon glanced behind them and counted in the darkness. Five floating metal monsters. Damn, damn, damn. She shoved against Jane's back, pushing him forward. Rigsby and O'Laughlin were in the lead, followed closely by Lassiter and Grace. Lisbon and Jane made up the rear as they ran for all they were worth.

They didn't bother firing their weapons – no use wasting bullets that they already knew would be useless. Lisbon figured they were probably lucky that the Toclafane were all they had to worry about. At least they didn't have to deal with the Master's human patrols on top of everything else.

"Where's the car?" she asked, one hand going to her side as a familiar muscle pang went through her. She hadn't done much running in the past month and she was definitely starting to feel the effects. Her lungs were burning, but she pressed forward.

"Couple of miles," Jane's breath came in pants and she glanced over at him anxiously.

"Great," she huffed and closed her eyes, shaking her head and pushing her feet harder against the ground. She was not about to die after finally reuniting with Jane. And Rigsby, of course. Those flying bastards were fast, but she was determined to outrun them. If they could get to the car, they had a fighting chance.

Suddenly, the dark night was lit up as one of the Toclafane shot a bright blue laser and nearly took of Rigsby.

"Damn it!" she ducked as another beam of light shot right over her head. She could feel the heat and the intensity of it. She'd never seen the lasers in person, but she'd heard of them and seen the Master employ them in his broadcasts. He'd preformed several executions with them.

The darkness was suddenly alight with the bright lasers as the Toclafane fired away, zapping trees, grass and rocks and grazing Van Pelt's jacket, but miraculously not hitting anyone for several minutes.

They lost them for a moment as the group suddenly veered off the path and down through a tangled knot of branches. Lisbon hissed as thorny roots and vines caught her pants and slowed her down. She noticed the group at the front slowing down as well, trying to wade their way through the sharp, biting sticks and thorns. Two of the Toclafane found them as they were halfway through the mess, a laser lighting up the darkness once more.

"Look out ahead!" She called, ducking and dragging Jane down with her as another shot fired very near their heads. "Shit,"

She hadn't felt her heart beating so quickly in a long time, pressing up against her ribcage. Her chest hurt, her lungs were on fire and every step sent a new pang through her side, but she kept going anyway, determined not to die so soon.

Several quick burst filled the night air and she heard Van Pelt scream suddenly, but she couldn't see what was happening up ahead and instead continued forward, yanking Jane along beside her as he started to slow down, his breath coming in shorter, more labored bursts than before.

"Come on, Jane," she huffed, "We gotta keep going. The car can't be much farther…"

He wheezed a bit and turned to give her a smile. Even as scared as he looked, that smile still sent a warm, familiar feeling through her and she gripped his hand tighter in hers. She was definitely not going to die today.

Suddenly, she heard Rigsby's voice a few feet ahead, pained and tired,

"We have to keep moving, Grace!"

Van Pelt's voice returned, a rough, trembling sound, "We can't just leave him!"

There were more words, but Lisbon didn't hear what and a moment later another bright laser cut through the night. She heard the others picking up speed and hoped to God that meant they were nearing the car. The path made a sharp turn up ahead and she had just enough time to spot Rigsby dragging the redhead, Lassiter moving swiftly in front of them, toward the turn. She glanced back with wide eyes and kept moving.

For a moment, Lisbon's brows furrowed in confusion and then she nearly fell flat on her face over what she at first thought was a large root. As Jane pulled her to her feet, however, she got a good look at Craig O'Laughlin's lifeless body and her gut twisted. He was face down, one hard reaching out toward the turn in the trail, legs folded underneath him at an awkward, unnatural angle. She was frozen for a second, but Jane tugged her forward.

"We have to go," he urged her onward, this time leading her down the dark and narrow path.

They were running for several minutes more, with no sign of Toclafane, whenever they burst out into a clearing and she spotted the car parked next to a dirt road that was worn from rain and years of use. They didn't stop running until they reached the car and Lisbon leaned against the metal frame, closing her eyes tightly and taking several painful gulps of air. She felt Jane at her side, his eyes burning a hole into her head and she heard Van Pelt, her choking sobs the only other sound apart from the heavy breathing.

Rigsby murmured something to her, but Lisbon couldn't hear what over the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. After several seconds, she opened her eyes and looked up, spotting them standing near the hood of the car, Rigsby's arms wrapped around Van Pelt's shoulders as he whispered something. Jane was still glued to her side and off to the side stood Lassiter, breathing heavily and looking a bit awkward as he looked between Grace and Wayne.

Lisbon's eyes went to Jane and she was surprised to see him looking right back at her. She took a shaky breath and reached out, gripping his hand tightly again. She wasn't able to force a smile, thinking back to O'Laughlin's body. She had only just met him that night, but he had died on a trip to rescue her and she couldn't help the wave of grief and guilt that washed over her.

The night was quiet again as everyone's breathing returned to normal. No sound of Toclafane approaching. Nothing at all except Van Pelt crying, her head resting against Rigsby's consoling shoulder.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The morning was slow as everyone moved around sluggishly for a few hours. No one was really talking much, still too tired from their restless nights. It wasn't until Jack was awake that they really registered the start of a new day. Everyone loved Jack. The toddler got more attention than anyone else in the house. Even Gibbs would smile and play with a handful of plastic soldier with the little boy.

He was sitting on the floor, Gibbs and Tony both playing with him, giggling loudly as Hotch watched with a content smile on his face. He thought of how he and Hailey had used to do almost the exact same thing but shoved the thought away with a pang of grief. He tried hard to remind himself that Hailey was gone and not coming back, but he still woke up some mornings expecting to roll over and see her smiling at him.

Slowly, the murmur of everyone else's voices began to pick up again. Reid and McGee were talking with Ducky about time travel again, Fornell and Rossi were talking but Hotch only caught a few words here and there. He assumed it was probably something to do with Rossi's former FBI career. Morgan was teasing Garcia and Abby while they worked on the computer and Prentiss, who had been the last to get up that morning, suddenly sank down between Tony and Gibbs to play with Jack.

Jessica nudged him slightly and he turned to look at her, raising a brow whenever she gave him a knowing sort of smirk. He wasn't sure what the smile meant until her eyes went to Prentiss and Tony. They were sitting a bit closer together than Hotch would've expected, heads bowed toward each other as they whispered something. Soon, though, they moved apart and turned their attention back to Jack.

"Oh my god!" Garcia suddenly jumped up, her eyes wide behind her glasses and turned toward Abby, who was grinning brightly too.

"We got something!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and crowded around Garcia and Abby, Jessica taking little Jack and holding him in her arms tightly.

"What'd you find, Baby Girl?" Morgan leaned forward, studying the computer.

"Dr. Badass," it was Abby would answered, "He sent us a message last night."

"It was hard to decipher it," Garcia admitted, "He wrote it in code, but we got it!"

"What did he say?" Gibb asked, leaning over the back of Abby's chair, squinting at the screen even though he had no idea what he was really looking at.

"He's in South Dakota," Garcia said, turning back to face the screen, "With a few other men. He wouldn't give us a number, but he says that they have weapons and ammo and they're good with guns… They've been looking for law enforcement and… uh, hunters…"

"You mean like deer hunters?" McGee frowned thoughtfully.

"Just says hunters. They're trying to gather enough people to go after the Master. They're gonna need all the help they can get and right now, they're pretty much alone." Abby said.

There was silence for a moment and then Tony spoke up, "Well, guess they're in luck since we're trying to do the same thing."

Garcia grinned brightly, "That's what I said," she said, "And, apparently, Dr. Badass has been trying to crack Archangel too. Maybe, with his help, we can have it done in half the time."

For the first time a month there was a decidedly light atmosphere in the small safe house. Everyone was smiling. They might have an ally who was looking for more people out there to help.

"We need to tell them about Ducky," Reid suddenly said, "They don't know about anything he's told us yet."

"He's right," Prentiss nodded, "They'll need to know everything we know and vice versa."

"You two can send a message back, yeah?" Gibbs asked, glancing down at Abby.

The two women grinned and turned back to the screen with a sparkle in their eyes, "Consider it done, Gibbs," Abby said. They were working away again, the steady clicking of their fingers on the keyboard a familiar sound as everyone went back to what they were doing, buzzing with anticipation. Finally, after a month, it felt like maybe they were actually going to accomplish something.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Henricksen and Adam road in the backseat of the beat-up old car the Winchesters were driving. Dean sat behind the wheel, his knuckles white and his jaw set, not saying a word. Henricksen noticed Sam glancing toward his older brother every now and then, looking reading to say something, and then stopping himself and looking quickly toward the back.

Amelia Richardson sat between him and Adam, her hands gripped into tight fists, arms wrapped tightly around her chest. She too was silent, her face set in a grim expression while her tears from earlier dried on her face. The overwhelmingly heavy silence only gave Henricksen more time to work through what had happened back at the crossroads. In the short drive from where they were to what appeared to be an old, abandoned barn, Henricksen tried to untangle the messy thoughts in his head.

It wasn't every day a man's entire worldview was completely turned upside down, after all.

He was a practical man, only ever believing something that he could pin down with own two eyes, living in a world based entirely on facts and solid legwork. He wasn't particularly religious, never finding a real reason to believe in a God he couldn't see or talk to, but now… If demons were real, did that mean God existed too? Was Hell a real place? And what about Heaven? If there really were ghosts, what did that mean about the afterlife?

How had he lived his entire life never realizing that there was an entire world hidden, just out of his line of sight? How many cases had he worked that had been the work of some supernatural being?

And of course, there was the Winchesters. If they were innocent of the crimes he'd thought they'd committed, he couldn't help but wonder _why _they were working to hunt down monsters in the first place. It didn't seem like the kind of life someone would want. Then again, his own career in the FBI wasn't exactly the most rewarding – years of hard work, pain, long nights and broken marriages with little to really show for it. Were they doing what they did for the same reason he did? Were they trying to protect innocent people? How did they get mixed up into a life like this?

If it weren't for the tense silence that seemed to hang over the car, he might've asked those questions immediately, but maybe it was better that he had a few minutes to try and readjust his thoughts before he was able to ask questions.

Dean cut the engine as they pulled up to the old barn and climbed out of the car without a word to anyone. Sam sighed heavily and stayed behind, whispering quietly to Amelia that they would get her someplace safe. Henricksen frowned for a moment when Adam hung back to talk to Sam, then he quickened his stride until he caught up with Dean, grabbing the younger man by the arm and stopping him before he could enter the barn.

"Hey," he took a half-step back as Dean wrenched his arm free and turned to glare at him in annoyance. "What's with you and the girl?"

Dean's eyes flickered to where Sam was standing near the car with Amelia and Adam and then turned back to Henricksen. "Like I said, she didn't want our help when she sold her soul. Why should we help her now?"

Henricksen frowned, "She did it to bring her husband back," he said, "Ever think maybe she misses him?"

"People die," Dean snapped, "And when they're dead, they should stay that way. You don't fuck around with the natural order like that."

Henricksen frowned, "Sounds like you're taking this kind of personal," he said, "The girl is alone and scared. She loved her husband and wanted him back. Maybe dealing with a demon isn't the smartest thing to do, but cut her some slack, huh?"

Dean narrowed his eyes, "What, you think her selling her soul to bring back a man who's been dead over a month is a good thing?"

"She loved the guy,"

"She's being selfish," Dean said, his words snarled and harsh. "She should've let him die and rest in peace, but since she didn't wanna live without him, she brought her husband back into this shitty world so she wouldn't have to be alone."

Henricksen blinked and paused for a second, unsure of how to respond at first. Before he got the chance, Dean had turned away and entered the barn, muttering under his breath. Sam brushed past him quickly, calling out his brother's name and Henricksen sighed.

He had to admit, he didn't know much about this supernatural world just yet, but it seemed to him that Amelia selling her soul was more an act of desperation and grief than selfishness. Maybe Dean had a point, maybe screwing with life and death wasn't a good thing, but he didn't understand how Dean could hold such contempt for a woman he hardly knew for doing something that countless others would likely be willing to do as well under similar circumstances.

"Sam said he'll be okay," Adam's voice was suddenly right behind Henricksen. "He just has issues with crossroads demons or something…"

Henricksen turned and studied the teenager with a frown. "You sure about tagging along with these guys?" he asked, "Even if they aren't killers, they're still living a dangerous life."

Adam shrugged, "Who isn't these days?"

Henricksen managed to smile a bit and nodded, "Right," he said, shaking his head and allowing Adam and the still silent Amelia to pass by him and into the barn where he could hear Sam and Dean having an intense, hissed argument a few feet away. He followed their voices until he caught sight of them, standing in the shadows and frowned, wonderful how the hell they had managed to work together so long when he'd seen the arguing nearly non-stop since he'd met them.

"Are you two going to argue all night?" Henricksen called over to them. Sam turned and gave him a hard look before turning back toward his brother and motioning pointedly at him. Dean rolled his eyes and moved back toward the group, his eyes skirting over Amelia with a controlled grimace of annoyance flickering over his face. Sam stood where he was for a moment before joining them as well.

"We'll have to camp here for the night," Dean said, "Hope you don't mind sleeping on the ground…"

Henricksen shrugged and helped them carry duffle bags from the car. There weren't enough blankets for everyone, but Sam valiantly gave up his extra blanket for Amelia and Dean, surprisingly, offered Adam his. Sam tried to give Henricksen his other blanket, but he refused, opting to use an empty duffle bag as a pillow and his own jacket as a blanket instead. In the past month, he'd slept in a lot of uncomfortable and unsavory places. He had to say, this might've been one of the worse, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna complain.

The night air was cold, but they didn't start a fire in case they risked being spotted by Toclafane. Henricksen lay on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling for several moments, listening to the others breathing. No one was asleep.

Finally, he rolled onto his side and squinted through the darkness toward the lump he assumed was Dean and asked one of the many questions that had been on his mind since the demon attack.

"How many of them are out there? Demons?"

There was a short pause before Dean answered, his voice gruff, "Don't know. Too many," he let out a sarcastic snort, "Sam and me seem to attract 'em pretty quick."

Adam suddenly spoke up next, "So Dad taught you how to kill them then?"

"Not demons," Sam was quick to reply then, "It's pretty much impossible to kill a demon."

"Unless you've got a special gun," Dean added, his tone suddenly heavy.

"Special gun?" Henricksen frowned.

"The Colt," Sam explained, his voice tired and rough, "Only gun in the world like it. It'll kill a demon. We had it…" he trailed off and Dean picked up where he stopped, his voice bitter.

"Then we lost it."

"How?" Adam again, his tone curious and interested. Henricksen had only known the kid a few weeks, but he was smart for only being seventeen.

"Long story," Dean grated the words out through his teeth, "Besides, we haven't seen much demon activity since the Master took over. Hell of a lot of ghosts though…"

"Ghosts?" Amelia spoke for the first time, her voice quiet and timid. Dean muttered something unintelligible and then Henricksen heard a heavy thud followed by Dean swearing loudly. In the dark, Henricksen couldn't be entirely sure but he thought Sam might've hit his brother.

"Yeah," Sam said, "Sometimes, when people die in violent ways, their spirit hangs on. Angry spirits are born from violent death and with the Toclafane hanging around, there's been a lot of that lately. More violent deaths means more vengeful spirits."

Henricksen mulled that thought over. It was horrifying to think that even in death the Master's victims might not have found rest. The very idea of dying in the nightmare and being stuck here for the rest of the foreseeable eternity made him a little bit sick.

"Is that what you've been doing then?" he asked, "Hunting ghosts and other monsters?"

"After the Decimation, vampires and shifters aren't really hiding as much anymore," Sam said, "But actually, we're looking for a safe house that's supposed to be here somewhere."

"Safe house?" Henricksen frowned.

"Yeah," Dean said, "Supposed to have a lot of law enforcement types. Normally, we wouldn't trust 'em, but we need help and firepower if we're gonna kill the Master."

Henricksen smiled a bit, "You're gonna kill the Master?"

"Damn straight," Dean sounded absolutely sure and Henricksen didn't doubt for a second that he was going to do everything he could to kill the son of a bitch.

"But…" Amelia suddenly spoke up, "Isn't that impossible?"

"Nothing is impossible," Dean said, "Not if you try hard enough."

"You're on a suicide mission," Amelia stated flatly, sounding less timid than she had before, "You're really going to drag people along with you to do something that you know can't be done?"

"It can," Dean's voice was hard, "Just because we haven't found a way to kill him yet, doesn't mean he can't be killed. If it bleeds, you can kill it."

"Have you even been watching the broadcasts?" Amelia asked, "There's no way. The best thing to do right now, is keep your head down and hope the Master doesn't notice you, because if he does, you're dead."

There was something openly challenging and defiant in Amelia's tone that surprised Henricksen. He could hear Dean taking a breath, about to say something, but Sam cut him off quickly.

"It's getting late," he said, "How about we all get some sleep. We need to get moving first thing,"

Dean muttered something, but Amelia obliged and was silent for the rest of the night. Adam murmured a quiet goodnight and other than the sounds of the others shifting around to get more comfortable, the bar was quiet, leaving Henricksen, once more, alone with his thoughts as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Carrying John out of the Fox Hole turned out to be the easy part. They were able to make a makeshift, if a bit shoddy, stretcher and Jake was able to carry most of his weight alone. The hard part came after they'd made their way through the tunnel and had to get back up onto the street. It was night and they could see nothing in the alley above them. Jake hoisted Tosh and Ianto up and the two of them knelt, waiting while Sherlock and Jake tried to heft John up to them.

It was a slow process. John groaned in pain, but never said anything to let them know, biting down on his lip to keep the groaning to a minimum. Owen wasn't being much help, but he wasn't being entirely useless either. His usually steady hands shook and he couldn't seem to stop thinking about Gwen, lying back there in the tunnel. He wanted to take her body with them, but as Sherlock so coldly pointed out, travelling with an invalid was going to be hard enough without also carrying a corpse around until they could bury it.

Owen had gritted his teeth when Sherlock had referred to Gwen's body as an "it" but Tosh had put a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a pleading, sympathetic look and he dropped it. For the moment at least. He was definitely hoping that they wouldn't have to deal with Mr. Sherlock Holmes for very much longer because he was very close to putting a bullet in the man's skull.

After several minutes of trying to lift John up and out of the tunnel, Tosh and Ianto finally managed to catch and lift the end of their makeshift stretcher and tugged it toward them as Jake and Sherlock pushed. John hissed loudly, but still said nothing as they finally pulled him onto the hard, cold concrete of the alley way. Sherlock, Jake and Owen were able to easily climb out, though Owen had needed a bit of help. Being shorter than the other two and not quite as focused as he really should be, he slipped a couple of times before Jake helped tug him upward.

They all rested for a long moment before Jake, kneeling by John and checking to make sure his leg was okay, looked up at Sherlock.

"Now what?"

"Now… we need to find somewhere safe to camp for the night. We'll have to cover as much ground as possible before dawn. We'll be safer outside of the city." His eyes went to John and he frowned, "We _may _be able to make it before sunrise."

"We're going to try either way," Tosh said, already moving to lift up her end of John's stretcher. "So let's get moving. Like you said, we haven't got much time."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Molly stood a few feet ahead of Martha, scanning the area for anyone before waving her forward. "Okay, we're just down this street," she said, "Follow me. Quickly." She took off, Martha at her heels and they ended up inside a relatively nice building. The entrance was empty, but Molly waved her forward and began explaining everything.

"The Master has us moving around every couple of weeks, to keep any fugitives from finding us easily. He's killed a few doctors for helping out the resistance."

Martha smiled a bit, "The resistance?" she asked.

Molly shrugged, "Well, we had to call it something and it does seem appropriate, doesn't it? Normally it would probably sound a bit silly, but the world's been taken over by an alien so I suppose it fits a bit better under the circumstances."

"True," Martha nodded, "Have you ever helped any fugitives?"

"A few," Molly nodded, "Whenever I can. Mostly children, of course. The adults won't risk going to someone who works for the Master unless they're desperate."

As they talked, Molly led Martha further into the building and pushed open a door that had a small, wooden sign over the door. "Infirmary" was written on the sign in what Martha thought might've been a black marker. The Infirmary was small, about five beds spaced out against one wall. Only three of the beds were occupied at the moment, but they all turned their eyes toward the pair as they entered.

An older man, whose leg was in a sling, leaned forward and asked, "…Who is she?"

It took Martha a second to realize that he wasn't actually speaking English and then Molly turned and frowned looking between Martha and the man.

"But he… he doesn't speak a word of English. How…?"

Martha smiled a bit, relief flooding her as she held up the TARDIS key, "I suppose this this works then," she said, "I'll explain in a bit. Is there anything I can do to help you out here?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

When Castiel returned to his post, he was surprised to see the Winchesters already away from the demon and resting. Of course, that was good news. They had survived their encounter with the demon, but it meant there was nothing for him to really pay attention to at the moment and left him instead thinking about Gabriel and the things that he had said.

"Cassie!" Balthazar was suddenly beside him, eyeing his brother curiously. "So, how did it go with our mysterious friend downstairs?"

"He refused to help," Castiel said, "He said that he ran away from Heaven to get away from the others…" he frowned thoughtfully and Balthazar smiled.

"Can't blame him there. Most of you are so dull it's almost painful,"

Castiel turned puzzled eyes on his brother and Balthazar shrugged, "You at least found out who he was, right?"

Castiel looked away again, eyes returning to the sleeping Winchesters. "Yes,"

There was a long pause and Balthazar sighed dramatically, "And? Who was he?"

Castiel hesitated, "…It was Gabriel,"

"You're joking!"

"Why would I joke about this?"

Balthazar heaved an annoyed sigh, but pressed on anyway, "Gabriel has been alive all this time? Just hiding out down below?"

Castiel nodded and Balthazar looked thoughtful, "I suppose we should probably tell Michael about this…?" he eyed Castiel curiously and waited for a response.

"Gabriel does not wish to be found," Castiel said slowly, "And he is probably long gone by now. We would be alerting Michael to nothing of import."

Balthazar's smile was wicked as his eyes sparkled, "Right. No reason Michael has to know anything about Gabriel. At least not for now. And who know, maybe Gabriel will come around…"

He vanished, humming the tune of some song from below that Castiel had never heard before. Granted, he knew very little about human means of entertainment, so that wasn't say much. He turned his attention back to the Winchesters once more and tried not to think about what would happen in Michael found out that he knew Gabriel was still alive…

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Francine sat on the small bed, her ex-husband and daughter next to her, and listened to the sound of screams echoing down to where they were currently being kept. Jack appeared to be sleeping, but Francine couldn't be sure. His chin was resting against his chest, but his breathing seemed too erratic and she thought he was probably having a nightmare, but none of them wanted to wake him, remembering the last nightmare Jack had had. He was still chained up about as tight as he could be, but he fought harder than any of them, defiant and anger and utterly unable to knuckle under to the Master's threats.

She jumped a bit whenever Clive put a hand on her shoulder and suggested that they try and get some sleep.

"It's getting worse," she said, ignoring him altogether. "Every night the screams get louder and I think 'Who is he torturing today? Who is it this time? Someone we know? Some innocent stranger?'" Her voice wavered and Clive tugged her closer to him, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.

"Mum, don't," Tish's voice was quiet as she scooted a bit closer to her mother. "We'll get out of this, like Jack said. We just have to trust the Doctor."

Francine eyed her daughter and shook her head, "Trust him? He's barely holding on as it is! You've seen him. Saxon's nearly killed the poor man. He won't be able to save us."

"What about Martha?"

Francine's heart seized a bit at the name of her other child and a few stray tears made their way down her cheeks, "…She'll do whatever she can," Francine conceded, "But every day I can't help but wonder if today is the day that bastard drags her body in here just to gloat."

Her words were full of fire and rage, but her voice still shook with fear and hopelessness. She looked around and couldn't help but doubt that they were ever going to be free of this nightmare. Tish was bruised and battered, her husband was barely able to keep himself from crying himself to sleep some nights and the great and mighty Doctor who was supposed to save them seemed to have been reduced to a hollowed shell of a man.

She wanted to hope, she wanted to believe that they could be saved, but there were moments when she would've gladly welcomed death to end this horror.

"We'll be okay," Clive said, but Francine knew he didn't believe that. Not really. "Martha never lets us down. She's what keeps this family from killing each other most times, remember?"

Francine managed to smile a bit at that and nodded, closing her eyes and leaning into her ex-husband. She wished she could see Martha. But wishes didn't have much of a place in the world anymore and instead she just tried to force herself not to think too hard about all the pain she'd witnessed and felt. Everything she'd lost. She reached out and clutched Tish's hand, reassured just a bit by her presence. She'd lost Leo, she had no idea where Martha was or if she was still alive, but she had Tish. And she'd be damned if she lost her too.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Aaaand another chapter down.

I feel awful for the Jones family… Kinda hate what's happening to them.

And I killed O'Laughlin. Trying to muster up a bit of regret over that, but I can't. I keep thinking how he died too quickly. Even if he never got to reveal his truly evil side. Still hate him.

Still hate Amelia. But things are moving forward to her execution as well. She really wasn't supposed to live this long…

Anyway. Things are moving along. Hope you enjoyed! Please review!


	20. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 15

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **Another long wait, I know… Sorry guys. I've just been very busy with school lately. Next week is my spring break though, so maybe I'll be able to write more then! Thanks for the reviews, I know I'm behind on updates, but… forgive me? Please?

Hope you enjoy the chapter! Please don't forget to review!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

It was late whenever the Doctor was returned to the conference room. His eyes immediately went to Spencer, who was pale and curled up, leaning against the wall. His hair looked damp and his clothes were definitely clean and the Doctor frowned at the sight, wondering what had happened while he was being interrogated.

He eased himself closed to the young FBI agent, reaching out tentatively and touching him on the shoulder, "Spencer?"

Spencer still tensed up at the gentle touch, but didn't flinch away, instead turning to look over at the Doctor with wide, tear-filled eyes. The Doctor felt his chest tighten at the sight and Spencer scooted back a bit, so that he was closer to the Doctor, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "about earlier. I didn't mean –"

"Don't," the Doctor hadn't meant for the word to sound so angry, but he couldn't bear listening to Spencer apologize for being tortured. "Don't do that, Spencer. This is my fault and –"

"But it isn't," Spencer's voice was small and the Doctor had to strain a bit to hear him. He looked away from the Doctor, staring down at his hands, "It's not your fault, Doctor, you haven't done anything to me."

"I brought you here,"

"I wanted to come with you,"

The Doctor sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I'm so sorry, Spencer. I will get you out of this. You and Martha and everyone else. I _will_ fix this."

Spencer smiled a bit, "I know you will, Doctor," he said.

"Spencer…" the Doctor hesitated, "The Master didn't say what happened, but… if you want to talk about it –"

"I don't," Reid's voice was tight and his hands suddenly clenched into fists. The Doctor nodded slowly, removing his hand from Spencer's shoulder.

"I understand,"

Reid swallowed and closed his eyes, "You know what happened," he said.

He hesitated, "I… have a theory," he winced at his own words and Spencer scoffed. The sound was all wrong coming out the younger man's mouth.

"A theory…" he said, his voice hollow. He was quiet for a long moment and then he opened his eyes, staring down at his clenched fists.

"I can still _feel _him, Doctor," he said, his voice cracking. "I can… I can still hear him laughing…"

Spencer paled and his fists tightened impossibly. "Whenever I close my eyes… I… Doctor, I can't…"

"Shh," the Doctor reached over and gently put an arm around his thin shoulders. He was careful to watch Spencer's face. He tensed, but again didn't flinch so the Doctor pulled him closer and Spencer laid his head against his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

"We don't have to talk about it," the Doctor assured him. "We can talk about anything you want. Or nothing at all. It's up to you."

Spencer nodded, "Anything but that, please…" he said, "Just… talk to me. Please."

The Doctor sighed, nodding, "I've been thinking…" he said slowly, "The Master is starting to think that something isn't quite right. We've been here a month and haven't made a proper escape attempt. He's starting to wonder… I've got to let Jack know we're going to try to escape…"

"But what about your plan?"

"We won't really escape," the Doctor said, "Or I won't. If you and Jack and the Joneses can get out, you have to. I'll still be here to continue integrating with Archangel."

Spencer frowned, "You don't really expect us to just leave you here with the Master by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," the Doctor assured him. "We've got to try anyway, to keep the Master from asking too many questions about what's going on."

Spencer nodded, his head still resting against the Doctor's shoulders, "How are we going to do it then?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Adam woke up to a pained grunting noise and blinked his eyes a few times to be able to see. It was very early morning, the grey light filtering in through the cracks in the old barn siding. He shoved himself up on his elbows and looked around, spotting the four bundles nearby. For a moment, he forgot about the noise that woken him until he saw Sam tossing and turning in his sleep. In the dim light, Adam could just make out Sam's face scrunched in a pained grimace.

He crawled toward his brother, trying not to wake anyone else, and shook him roughly. It took several hard shoves before Sam's eyes snapped open and he jerked up, snatching Adam's wrist into a tight, painful grip.

"Hey, hey, dude, calm down, it's me!"

Sam gulped several deep breaths before his eyes focused on Adam, his brows scrunched tightly over his eyes. "Adam," he took another shuddering breath before letting go of Adam's wrist and instead grabbed onto the front of his shirt, eyes roving around the barn.

"Amelia…" he finally said, "Where's Amelia?"

Adam frowned and turned to where Amelia had been sleeping the night before, "She's right over –" he frowned, "Oh. She's gone."

Sam jumped to his feet and Adam followed him as he shook Dean awake viciously, "Dean, dude, get up. Now."

Dean grumbled and rolled over, his eyes cracking open as Henricksen began to stir across from them. "Ugh, dude, what time is it?"

"Don't know," Sam's voice was tight and rough and Dean's eyes shot all the way open. He sat up and grabbed his brother's shoulders, tugging him closer and looking him over.

"You alright? What happened?"

Sam glanced toward Henricksen and Adam, hesitating for a second, "I think I had another vision…"

"One of your weirdo psychic dreams?" Dean scrubbed at his eyes, yawning a bit as he stood and balled the blanket up, eyes going to where Amelia wasn't sleeping. "Where's the chick?"

"I don't know," Sam said, "But that's what the dream was about."

"He has psychic dreams?" Henricksen asked, frowning as he stretched and stood as well, eyeing the younger Winchester more closely than he had before. Adam followed Henricksen's gaze and grimaced a bit at Sam's bloodshot eyes and haggard, pale face. He looked like death warmed over.

"Long story," Dean said, turning back to Sam quickly, "What did you see?"

Sam glanced around between the three of them, "It was just… snatches," he said, "I couldn't make everything out, but I could… _feel_ it. It was you and me and Adam…" his eyes went toward Adam and he frowned a bit, "And Amelia."

"The chick?"

Sam sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, "We killed her."

For a moment there was silence and then Dean scoffed, a half nervous laugh escaping, "Come on, Sam, you know we wouldn't just kill some random, innocent woman."

Sam eyed him skeptically and Dean scowled, "Okay, fine, _you _wouldn't. There had to be more. Maybe you weren't seeing it right."

Sam shook his head, "I know what I saw Dean,"

"Well… well, we must've had a good reason," Dean said, frowning at his brother, "Come on, what else was there, Sam, think!"

"I don't know!" Sam insisted, "I told you, it was pretty jumbled up. I couldn't see everything clearly."

Dean scowled, "Maybe it was just a dream,"

"No," Sam shook his head, "It was a vision; I can feel the difference."

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Fucking perfect," he muttered, "You have one of your freak visions and now Amelia's missing…"

"I'm missing?" they all jumped a bit at the sound of Amelia's voice, turning to see her standing near the barn door. Her brows furrowed tightly as she stepped further in, closing the door behind her. She hesitated for a second as all their eyes turned toward her and she forced a tiny smile.

"Sorry, I needed to step out for a few minutes," she reached into her pocket and held up a small pack of matches, "Cigarette."

"Those things'll kill you, you know," Sam said, his voice tight as he tried to keep his tone conversational. Adam thought he saw Amelia's eyes narrow suspiciously, but then the moment was gone and she looked the same as she had the night before, except not nearly as depressed or in shock.

"Where'd you get cigarettes anyway?" Dean demanded. Adam noticed Dean's hand slip behind his back to where he kept his gun and he frowned. He wasn't really going to just shoot her in cold blood, was he? "It's kind of difficult to get smokes these days, isn't it?"

Amelia shrugged, "Guess when you've got an addiction you'll do whatever it takes," she said.

Dean nodded, pressing his lips together tightly before suddenly pulling the gun out and pointing it at Amelia. She blinked and her hands flew up, eyes widening.

"Cut the crap," Dean snarled, "What were you doing?"

"Dean," Sam's tone was low and he stepped closer to his older brother, "Come on, don't freak her out."

Dean's eyes skirted to Sam, "If what you saw is gonna happen, there's a reason, Sammy," he said, "I'm not taking chances. Now talk." He jabbed the gun toward Amelia and she stumbled back a bit, looking to Adam and Sam and Henricksen for help. Adam didn't know what to do, Sam looked like he was ready to take Dean's gun away and Henricksen's eyes kept going between Dean and Amelia as if he wasn't entirely sure which one to defend.

"I told you, I was smoking," Amelia said.

"Right," Dean said, "Then where are the rest of the cigarettes?"

Amelia's jaw flexed and she looked down, "I smoked the last one," she said.

Dean snorted, "Not buying it, sister," he said, "What were you doing?"

Amelia opened her mouth to say something, closed it and looked between the others again, half hoping that she would be able to get some sympathy. When she realized that they were all giving her the same skeptical, uncertain look she huffed and her hands fell to her side.

"Oh fine," she muttered, "I wasn't smoking." A wicked smile suddenly flickered across her face, "I was summoning a demon."

"Wh-" Sam started to say something when the barn door suddenly blew out and a young woman with long red hair and bright blue eyes stood there. None of them had ever seen the woman before, but after a second, the blue disappeared and was replaced with solid black and she grinned.

"Sam, Dean," she said cheerily, "It's been a while…"

Sam had just enough time to say, "Meg?" before he and the others were thrown across the barn, landing in a heap against the creaking wood. Dean's gun was yanked from his hand and tossed somewhere behind the demon and Amelia stood off to the side, smiling brightly.

"What the hell?" Dean grunted, standing and yanking Henricksen to his feet while Sam did the same with Adam. Sam studied Amelia's eager face and suddenly it hit him.

"She's a witch,"

"Fuck," Dean swore, "Freakin' witches." He sent a dirty glare in Amelia's direction, "Guess that explains how she knew about crossroads demons." He paused for a second, "Though I don't know why she'd bargain for her husband's life."

"Hey," Amelia frowned, crossing her arms, "You don't think witches can love people?"

Dean snorted, "Not in my experience, Sweet heart."

Amelia narrowed her eyes and suddenly Dean was lifted and thrown back into the wall in a sickening crunch. Sam grabbed him and hauled him to his feet again, turning his attention to the demon who was watching them with an amused smile.

"It's you, isn't it Meg?"

"Nothing gets past you, does it, Sammy?" she grinned, looking down at her body, "How do like my new look? Had to get a new host after you and your idiot brother _exorcised me._" The last words were spat and Dean smirked a bit, shrugging.

"Sorry 'bout that, but… seeing as you're an evil bitch and everything, it just seemed like the thing to do."

The black vanished and Meg's eyes were blue again. She smiled brightly, lifting her hand and curling it slowly into a fist. Dean grunted and gasped, blood trickling from his mouth. Sam grabbed him to keep him from falling.

"Dean!" he turned to Meg, who was now laughing, "Stop it!"

She sighed and lowered her hand, "You're no fun at all, Sammy," she said.

Dean coughed, blood splattered out onto the dirt floor and he looked up, "Well, this is fun and all, but we got places to be –"

"Think it's really gonna be that easy to get out of this one, Deano?"

Dean's eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, nearly stumbling again. Sam held him steady and looked toward Meg, "Look, you got us. Let these two go, they're not part of this."

"I hear differently," Meg said, stepping toward them, her eyes on Adam, "I hear you and Deano found your long-lost baby brother."

Adam felt a bit dirty as the demon's eyes roved over his body, "He's kinda cute, isn't he?"

"He's not part of this," Sam said, his voice hard, "Just let them go."

"Not a chance," Meg snorted, "I've got you right where I want you." She continued forward until she was right in front of Sam and Dean, her eyes sparkling with malicious glee as she seemed to think about her next move.

"The only question now is… what am I going to do with you?"

She stepped closer, her eyes on Sam, lips twisting into a smile. Sam waited until she took another step, her face inches away from his, to yank the flask from Dean's inside pocket. He splashed the holy water right into her face, grinning as she screamed. He pushed Adam toward Henricksen, "RUN!" he yelled, shoving them both forward as he pulled a knife from his belt. Dean swayed a bit on his feet, blood dripping from his lips, but he took grabbed his knife as Sam launched himself at Meg.

Adam and Henricksen took off at a run, but Amelia headed them off, eyes blazing with power as she threw them both into the air and dropped them back down again. Henricksen landed with a loud crunch, but Adam fell hard onto a large pile of dirty straw. The breath was knocked out of his lungs for a moment, but he rolled off the pile quickly and struggled to regain his footing. As he stood, he found himself standing behind Amelia, her back to him. She had returned to watching Meg and his brothers.

His eyes flashed toward the gun Meg had yanked from Dean earlier and his heart skipped a beat. He'd never fired a gun in his life. But he'd take the chance now if it would help. He slowly made his way toward the weapon, glancing back toward Dean and Sam every couple of seconds.

Across the barn, Meg had recovered from the holy water attack, and though Sam's knife had pinned her to the ground, she was easily able to yank it out, looking at the bloodied weapon in annoyance.

"You really shouldn't have done that, Sam," she said, eyes flickering to black again as she threw Sam into the wall, pinning him there. The younger Winchester suddenly found it impossible to breathe and his chest was tight like it was about to explode. He futilely tried to gasp for air, but the harder he tried to breath, the more it hurt. Dean had fallen to his knees, still a bit weak from blood loss, pain shooting through his entire body.

He held his knife in a slightly loose grip and struggled back to his feet, throwing himself at Meg and knocking her back to the ground. He slammed the hilt of the knife into her head once and then shoved the blade through her throat. It didn't kill her, but she blinked several times, gurgling and appearing to be disoriented. Dean grinned as Sam took a step forward and kicked Meg in the side of the head. They heard a crack and saw more blood and Meg's eyes rolled back into unconsciousness, her skull caved in.

She might not be dead, but it would take her a bit to recover from those injuries in any case. Sam started to congratulate him brother until he heard Amelia's angry scream and felt himself get thrown once more into the barn wall. Dean landed with a thud next to him. He choked a bit and saw black at the edge of his vision. Just when he'd prepared himself for death – again – he and Dean both fell back to the ground and Amelia screamed again.

Adam was behind her, holding the gun in his hands. He'd fired off a shot, but it had only hit her shoulder and she whirled around in a rage.

"Adam!" Sam scrambled to his feet, hearing Dean panting behind him, and rushed toward Amelia, snatching the bloody knife as he went. He lunged toward the witch, managing to stab her pretty deep in the arm, but she spun around quickly and knocked the blade from his hand. So he resorted to punching her instead. He got in two or three good hits, feeling something crack under his hands. Blood spewed from what Sam guessed was a now broken nose and she thrust her hands out, sending him flying once more into the wall, black eating away at his vision.

Near the mouth of the barn, Adam was still holding the gun, but it was empty or jammed, because it wasn't firing. As Dean shuffled toward Amelia with a scream of rage, Adam ran towards her from behind and brought the butt of the gun down on the back of her head with a satisfying crunch. She screamed and spun, launching Adam through the air, where he hit the barn doors and fell, eyes rolling back in his head.

Dean drunkenly swung his arm, landing a good heavy blow to the side of Amelia's already aching head. She stumbled drunkenly for a moment and then fell, her vision blurring. But Dean wasn't done yet.

He laid into her with an animalistic fury, straddling her waist and landing blow after blow. Her right eye was swollen shut and she was choking on blood, but he didn't stop until she finally quite fighting beneath him. He was breathing heavily, vision dancing in and out of focus, as he felt her neck for a pulse. Satisfied when he didn't find one, he stumbled to his feet and hobbled his way toward the barely conscious Sam.

"D'ya ge' 'er?" Sam slurred, blinking bleary eyes up at his older brother.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "Got her. C'mon, we gotta get outta here. Help me get these two… Before Meg wakes up…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Shawn was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his forehead pressed up against the edge of the couch that Juliet was currently laying on. Every now and then, Dr. Holloway would come by and check on her, making sure that she was breathing. An hour ago she'd told them that Juliet's pulse was much steadier than it had been and they'd been giving her water, which she swallowed reflexively.

He spent a long time just sitting there watching her. She was breathing evenly now, her cheeks were a faint pink color again and though Dr. Holloway was concerned about a mild fever she'd developed earlier in the afternoon, she was definitely better than she had been.

At the moment, Shawn was nearly on the brink of exhaustion. He hadn't gotten much sleep in the past couple of weeks and he wasn't sure if that would change anytime soon. Gus was missing and now Juliet was hurt and he and Henry had spent the past month trying to find out what happened to Madeline, to no end. They still had no idea if she was alive or dead and Shawn tried to stay positive. It was what he was best, after all. Making horrible, bleak situations a tiny bit better by cracking some joke or off-the-wall movie reference.

Except that after Gus went missing, Shawn seemed to have forgotten how to joke properly and even though he constantly told Lassie that there was no way his best friend was going to die – especially not without him – he was beginning to doubt it.

Blinking, he stifled a yawn and looked up whenever a hand came down heavily on his shoulder. He looked up to his see father standing there and turned away, instead looking back at Juliet.

He lifted the wet cloth he'd been wiping her forehead with every now and then and pressed it against her face gently.

"Why don't you let me take a shift, son?" Henry asked, "You've been sitting here for hours."

"No, I've got it," Shawn said, watching Juliet's face rather than turn back to look at his dad.

"Shawn, you're gonna run yourself ragged. Now, I know you and Lassiter care about Juliet, but they've got a doctor here looking after her and if you don't get some sleep you'll only be hurting yourself."

"I have to do something, Dad," Shawn snapped, still not turning to look at Henry. "If I can't help Gus, at least I can help Jules."

Henry sighed and squeezed Shawn's shoulder, "I know you're worried, but we'll find him."

Shawn just nodded and Henry let go on his shoulder, shaking his head and moving toward Dr. Holloway to speak to her a bit. She'd explained to them about her encounter with the Doctor and the Master years ago in San Francisco. If it weren't for the things that had happened in the last month, Henry would've told her that she was insane, but as it was… it only disturbed him more.

The Master had been killed, and had, in fact, had an entirely different face back then. Yet he somehow managed to get a new body and was amazing not-dead for a dead man. He hadn't fully believed the Master's claims of being unkillable, but with Grace's story weighing on his mind he had to wonder if maybe it really was impossible to kill the man…

He glanced back over at Shawn and shook his head again. Shawn had been nearly as persistent as Lassiter while watching over Juliet, making sure to give her water and keep her cooled down while they waited for her fever to break. Dr. Holloway was worried about how long she'd been unconscious, but she'd lost a lot of blood and was doing remarkably well considering the trauma she'd suffered.

"Come on, Jules," Shawn whispered, pressing the cloth against her flushed skin, "You can't die on me now. We still gotta find Gus, and if I'm stuck with Henry and Lassie we'll kill each other. You know Lassie's armed. You're wily, feminine… wiles… are the only thing keeping him for doing it…"

He sighed and removed the cloth, leaning down to press his forehead against the couch again.

"…Wily feminine wiles?"

Shawn's head jerked up and he found himself looking into Juliet's glazed over eyes. She smiled at him and he couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"Jules!"

"Hey, Shawn…" her voice was weak, but she beamed at him for a moment before looking around the room. "Where are we?"

She started to sit up and Shawn pushed her gently back down, "No, you gotta stay still. The Doctor lady said you've got a fever."

Juliet frowned, "Doctor lady?" she rasped a bit and Shawn immediately reached for the water bottle, holding it up to her lips. She drank a bit and pushed it away, shaking her head.

"Shawn, stop! Let me talk," she sighed, "Where's Lassiter? And where are we?"

"Some safe house… I think we're outside of Sacramento. You'll feel right at home, there are a lot of cops here."

"And Lassiter?"

"They went out looking for someone and Lassie went with them. I think he just wanted an excuse to shoot something."

Juliet smile a little and shook her head at him, "Well, he'll be happy to be doing something… Any word on Gus?"

Shawn's smile fell and he shook his head. Juliet sighed, but didn't say anything, instead blinking as Shawn suddenly leaned forward and pressed a wet cloth to her head.

"Gotta keep you cooled down," Shawn said, forcing a smile. "You're just too hot for your own good, Jules."

Juliet didn't say anything, just laying back and thinking. Her leg was throbbing and she felt uncomfortably sticky. She could feel her hair sticking to her forehead and the back of her neck and tried her best not to squirm at the gritty feeling of dirt on her hands. She tried to shift and sit up again, but Shawn was quick to keep her down. Not that it really mattered; she'd barely been able to get the energy to push herself up.

She didn't like Shawn being so quiet, it unnerved her, but at the same time, she was grateful for the chance to try and collect her thoughts. She couldn't remember much about what had happened. They were looking for Gus and there had been Toclafane, but… she only got flashes after that. Muddy memories of pain and screaming and bright lights and sharp knives.

Glancing toward Shawn she sighed. He still didn't look like himself and he hadn't since Gus had gone missing. She knew Gus was Shawn's best friend and had been since they were children; she couldn't imagine how he was feeling. He looked so dead. Even after the Decimation, Shawn had somehow retained his quirky personality and sense of humor, but lately he hardly smiled and only half-heartedly joked.

She fumbled around for a moment before she found his hand and clutched it tightly. He froze for a second and met her eyes, smiling a little. She didn't say anything and she didn't really need to. He understood. For a moment, he felt that hope flare up in his chest again. They would Gus if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"You heard from those boys yet?" Rufus made his way back into the common area, casting an annoyed eye toward the shelves that were conspicuously absent of Johnny Walker Blue.

Ash looked up from his homemade laptop and frowned, lips tugging down a bit. "Nah," he said, "They were supposed to call in over an hour ago, but I haven't heard a peep out of 'em yet."

"I wouldn't worry," Gordon said from the hall, carrying a shotgun in his hands, "They probably just made a stop to carry on their family reunion. Maybe they found their long-lost sister too."

Martin was right behind him, "Come on, Gordon, don't be an ass. I know you're tired of being stuck in here, but they're professionals. They're daddy raised 'em right."

Gordon grunted, shaking his head, "If you ask me, some of their daddy's training didn't quite rub off."

"Where you two heading?" Rufus called, frowning.

"Food run," Gordon said, holding the shotgun up, "Be back by sundown."

"Watch yourselves out there," Rufus called, frowning as he wandered toward the alcohol shelf. It was a meager supply and he frowned, "And bring back some Johnny Walker Blue!"

Gordon snorted, already halfway down the hall, "Any other requests?"

Rufus grumbled and planted himself down at the table where he usually spent most of his time. Ash watched him for a moment before turning his attention back to the beeping of his laptop.

"What are you up to, boy?"

"I just got a reply from one of those other houses out there," he said, glancing up toward the other man.

"They hunters or what?"

"No," Ash frowned, "FBI,"

Rufus' eyes widened, "FBI, huh? They say where they're at?"

"Virginia," Ash said, "And get this. They said they have some big time info on the Master. Sometime we ought to hear…"

"What is it?"

"I'm waiting on the reply," Ash said, frowning and leaning back.

Rufus grunted, "Maybe we'll actually get some help for a change. And if Sam and Dean can find this safe house in Minnesota…"

Ash frowned, picking up the make-shift phone he'd created. "Yeah, but if they die out there –"

"Die?" Garth entered to common area, "Come on, Ash, this is Sam and Dean! They're not dead."

"They haven't checked in yet," Ash frowned, "They're not late without a reason." He rolled the phone over in his fingers and frowned, "There's been a spike in demon activity out that way in the past couple of weeks."

Rufus snorted, "They better be more worried about Toclafane than demons," he said, "Those demons out there are probably crossroads demons. They close their deals and get goin'."

"We're talking about the Winchesters," Ash reminded him. Rufus shrugged and Garth frowned.

"They'll be fine. You two are worrying about nothing," he told him.

Ash grunted, but didn't saying anything for a long minute until his computer started beeping again.

"It's the FBI people!" he slid closer.

"What'd they say?"

"Hold on, hold on…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"We have to stop," Tosh was holding her side, breathing heavily. It had been several long and stressful hours of dodging Toclafane before they reached the edge of the city. They were nestled between two houses, both clearly abandoned. There was a car still sitting in the driveway of one of them, though Tosh wasn't sure if it was still drive-able.

Sherlock frowned and started to say something to her, but she motioned to Jake, who was carrying John solo for the moment. John was biting down hard on his lower lip, his face screwed up to keep from calling out in pain.

"John needs to rest. We can't keep going while he's injured. We can stay here for a few hours and get going. None of us have even eaten."

Sherlock curled his upper lip a bit, but nodded curtly. "I suppose you have a point," he said, "Very well. This will be a decent enough stopping point."

His eyes flicked toward the car, "Perhaps we can attempt to get the car running. It would certainly make our travelling easier."

"But it'll be more risky," Ianto pointed out, "The only people driving are working for the Master and if we're stopped…"

"We've got guns," Owen said, pushing past him, "Anyone stops us, we'll kill 'em." He didn't look back as he started toward the house and easily pushed the front door open.

Tosh sighed and glanced back toward Ianto, shaking her head as she, Sherlock and Ianto followed, helping Jake get John through the door without aggravating his leg too badly.

The house was a total wreck, broken glass, picture frames and a coffee table that had been sawed in half. There was a couch, shredded though it was, was big enough to lay John on semi-comfortably.

"How are you doing, Johnny?" Jake asked, moving the injured leg a bit. John hissed a bit and clenched his teeth.

"I'll live," John said, forcing a smile. Jake grinned at him, clapping his easily on the shoulder and shaking his head.

"You'd better," Jake told him, "I ain't losing anyone else."

Sherlock was scanning the place with his calculating, critical gaze. "We should be able to stay here for a short while at least," he said, "I doubt the Toclafane patrol this area very heavily. Of course, one can't be too careful. We'll need to leave as soon as possible."

"You know, you could just sit down and rest, Sherlock," Tosh told him, "We've been travelling for hours. You must be tired,"

"I've got too much to thinking to do to be tired," Sherlock said.

"You should take a break, maybe a nap would do you good," Tosh tried again and Sherlock scoffed.

"I don't need sleep, sleeping's boring. What I need is silence…" his eyes traveled toward the stairs just beyond the living room. The banister was broken, but the stairs appeared to be safe enough.

"I'll be upstairs," he said. He didn't wait for anyone to respond, sweeping up the stairs with that same, haughty, almost regal air around him as he went. Tosh pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"Come on, Owen," she said, standing from where she'd been going through the bags. "Let's see if that car is in working order."

Owen just nodded curtly and went outside. He still wasn't saying much and Tosh wasn't sure what to do about it. She needed to get him to open up, but that was probably not going to happen anytime soon.

She paused at the door, "You'll be alright watching John for a while by yourself?"

"If I need anything I holler," Jake assured her.

She smiled at him, nodding and followed Owen back to the car.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Martha was enjoying helping Molly out with the patients in the infirmary. There were only three patients, of course, but she was still reminded of her days training in the hospital back in London. She smiled a bit as she thought about the day she'd met the Doctor and her whole life turned upside down – in a good way, generally speaking. She didn't like to think too much about the current situation, instead keeping herself busy.

"So you really think this Doctor will be able to help us then?" Molly asked as she and Martha left the infirmary. She was leading Martha down to the dining area. Martha had met one of the other two doctors in the place earlier, a young man named Tomas who was a local to Lisbon. He had recognized Martha, but quickly accept Molly's pleas to allow her to stay until nightfall. Molly assured Martha that the other doctor would be fine with her staying as well, but he was out on a call at a nearby factory and probably wouldn't be back for another couple of hours.

"I know the Doctor can," she said, "If you could just see the things he's shown me…" she sighed and shook her head, "I know I must sound mad, but really…"

"Oh, you don't!" Molly said quickly, "It sounds wonderful! Really, just so wonderful. All those planets and aliens… I mean, it sounds absolutely dangerous and I can't even imagine… But he sounds so remarkable."

Martha smiled at her, "He is," she said, "You'd love him, Molly, he's fantastic! I mean, he can be a bit full of himself and there are those infuriating times and sometimes he does this thing where he'll look at you like you're an absolutely idiot and half the things he says go right over your head but…" she bit her lip and sighed again. "It's brilliant."

"Maybe I'll get to meet him someday,"

Martha's eyes sparkled a bit, "Tell you what," she said, "If we can save the world, I'll make sure the Doctor makes a special stop just to see you."

Molly ducked her head a bit, "Martha, that's not necessary,"

"Of course it is!" Martha said, "With all you're doing out here, helping sick people, helping me… I'll make sure you get to meet the Doctor."

Molly smiled and shook her head, convinced Martha would forget the promise before the world was saved. Not that she doubted that Martha would help the Doctor save the world. She'd never seen someone so determined to do something in her entire life and if her stories about the Doctor were true then she knew that they would be alright. Someday.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **And another chapter down. Amelia's dead! Yaaaay! *fireworks shoot off* I have to thank my friend Beronica for sparking the idea of Amelia dearest being a witch. Her death was probably the most fun thing I wrote for this chapter and I know that sounds bad but… whatever.

Hey, look, Jules is awake! Let's focus on that… ;)

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Don't forget to review!


	21. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 16

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: ***winces* Let's just not talk about how long it's been since I updated and get on with the chapter, eh? All I have to say is: finals are here, people suck and I had to force myself to sit down and write this. All I really want to do is be lazy, but I refuse to leave a story for so long and I promise I won't make you wait so long ever again. Forgive me.

Thanks for the reviews!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

They didn't return to Sacramento until nearly sunrise. Everyone was exhausted as they stumbled into the safe house, Van Pelt quiet and leaning into Rigsby. Her face was red and streaked from her tears. She had been quiet the entire ride back to the safe house. Everyone had. Even Jane hadn't said much and what he did say was just to make sure that Lisbon was alright.

Grace Holloway had waited for them, with Henry Spencer. The two had spent much of the day talking – trading stories and discussing Juliet and her condition. Henry had taken a liking to the younger woman, she had even managed to make him laugh a few times when she elaborated more on her story about the Doctor and what he was like. It had taken his mind off of everything else that was going on.

As soon as they got back, Lassiter went directly over to where Juliet was. She was asleep and Shawn was sitting on the floor beside her, his hand loosely gripped in her own. His head rested against the edge of the couch, snoring lightly.

"How is she?" he asked immediately, putting a hand to her head. It was a bit warm and he frowned, turning to face Dr. Holloway.

"She's fine," Dr. Holloway said quietly, "She woke up a few hours ago. She's got a low fever, but other than that she's doing better than expected. She ate and kept it down and she's been sleeping soundly."

She glanced around the ragged looking group, spotting Lisbon and smiling in relief, "So you did find her!" Her eyes fell on Van Pelt and Rigsby then and her smile fell. "…Where's Craig?"

Rigsby shook his head, "He didn't make it," he said quietly. Van Pelt let out a little sound and he quietly led her away, whispering to her that it was going to be okay. At least he'd died quickly and hadn't been ripped to shreds by the knives.

Dr. Holloway looked down, "At least… at least you were able to find Agent Lisbon."

Lisbon felt that same twinge of guilt again at their grief. She hadn't known O'Laughlin, but he died rescuing her and these people had known him and clearly liked him. If they hadn't been trying to save her, he'd still be alive. Jane seemed to sense what she was thinking because he took her by the arm and shook his head.

"He could've died any way," he said, "these are dangerous times, Lisbon. People die like that every single day and it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. Don't."

She smiled half-heartedly at him and nodded, "Okay, Jane," she said, her voice tight as she looked around. The safe house was small, but there seemed to be a decent amount of people here. Jane had told her that there were a lot of agents and cops mostly and she wondered how many of them she knew. She tried not to think about the people she knew who hadn't made it through the Decimation. Instead she cleared her throat and shook her head to order her thoughts.

"It's late," she said quietly, "I think we should all get some rest,"

"That's a good idea," Henry agreed, nodding, "You all look exhausted." He looked pointedly at Lassiter and the cop frowned, about to protest until Dr. Holloway nodded in agreement.

"You should," she said, "We can talk more in the morning when everyone is better rested."

They all nodded slowly and Jane took Lisbon by the arm, leading her to the back where the adults slept, "This way," Jane said quietly, "I'll show you where you can sleep…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Hold still," Dean grunted as Sam grimaced. He held his brother's arm tightly in his hand. "Alright. Ready?"

Sam clenched his eyes shut tight and nodded stiffly, "Yeah, just get it over with…"

Dean nodded and took a breath to steady himself. With a swift jerk he popped Sam's shoulder back in place ignoring the pained "ARGH!" that Sam let out. He let go of Sam's arm and grinned a bit, shaking his head and patting him on the back roughly.

"There ya go, Little Brother,"

Adam and Henricksen watched the exchange with curiosity. Clearly, this was something that the Winchesters had done before. Often, in fact. As Sam tested his shoulder, grimacing and biting back another groan and stood. Sam didn't know how long they'd driven after leaving the barn, but Dean had gone until he absolutely had to stop and they were inside the city now, in an old apartment building in a condemned area. It was safe enough for the moment at least.

"How are you doing?" Sam asked Henricksen. The older man grimaced. He was banged up good, but breathing and able to walk. They discovered he'd sprained his ankle getting out of the car and Dean was sure he had a concussion, but he was resilient.

"I'm good…" Henricksen said, talking between teeth. His neck ached, his shoulders screamed and his chest felt like he had knives inside of it, but he didn't care because he was alive and he felt damn lucky to be that way.

"Break any ribs?"

"Probably," Henricksen rolled his shoulders and reached up with his left hand to tug at the buttons on his ragged looking shirt. It was a slow and painful process, but the shirt fell away to reveal a bruised and battered chest and stomach. The bruises stood out against his dark skin, looking faintly red and purple and moving in a nasty pattern across his ribcage.

Dean grunted and nodded, "Definitely got some broken ribs," he said, meeting the agent's eyes, "Lucky that's all though…"

Henricksen laughed and then groaned as the movement sent a shard of pain through him, "Don't I know it…"

"What about you, Adam?" Sam asked, "You alright?"

Adam hadn't said much since coming to again. He shrugged, "Head hurts," he said, "I think I broke my arm…" he lifted his left arm and it hung at an awkward angle. Sam was certain it was broken, but Adam was still quiet. "Maybe bruised some ribs. I'll be fine."

"You don't have to suck it in, Adam," Sam said, "She was a powerful witch. We're all lucky we got out of there alive."

Dean nodded, "Freaking witches," he muttered. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Dean,"

"What?" Dean scowled, "I hate witches, Man. You know it. They're disgusting, with their freaking blood spells and throwing their fluids around everywhere. It's unsanitary."

Sam laughed, but the movement hurt his chest. He would be surprised if he didn't have any broken ribs himself. They were definitely going to have to take it easy for a while. "Whatever," he said. "We need to lay low for a while, in case Meg tries to follow us. We should put Devil's Traps at the doors. And we need bandages…" he eyed Dean's bloody face. He'd broken his nose and both he and Dean had gotten some nasty cuts fighting Meg.

"We'll get something tonight," Dean nodded, leaning against a wall and closing his eyes, "I don't wanna move right now."

Sam nodded, "Yeah," he said, then, suddenly, he patted his pockets, "Shit. We haven't checked in with Ash yet."

"Damn…" Dean groaned, "The phone's in the duffle…" he lifted his hand without opening his eyes, "You call in. Tell him we're out of commission for now…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

It was late in the day and they had spent much of their time talking back and forth with the "hunters" with Dr. Badass. Abby was getting tired, but they were exchanging information and this was important. It was the first contact they had been able to make and they were excited to be able to make it. As they told the hunters about Ducky's story about the Master, the hunters told them what they knew.

Apparently, electricity could down a Toclafane. It was about the only real weakness that they had managed to uncover thus far, but it was something.

"We need to get the word out," Fornell said, "We need to find electric weapons. Tasers, stun guns, whatever's still usable. The more Toclafane we can take out the easier thing's will be."

"Yeah, but we can't take 'em all out," Tony said, frowning, "There are too many of them for us to stand any real chance. Especially with those laser weapons."

Gibbs frowned, leaning down over Abby's chair and looking at the screen. He had no idea how she and Garcia had managed to do whatever they were doing on the computer and the words on the screen were gibberish to his eyes. Dr. Badass insisted on writing in a code and Gibbs had to admit, that was smart of him. They knew their network wasn't exactly secure. Archangel had control over most satellites and anything could be picked up by the Master. The harder it was for him to figure out what they were talking about, the better.

"It's something," Gibbs said, "and we're going to use it. Even if we can't take all of them out, it still gives us an edge we didn't have before."

"If it's all we've got," Morgan nodded, "We've got to use it."

"We're going to have a hard time finding Tasers or stun guns, though," Reid said, "Any weapons that weren't hidden were confiscated by the Master and it seems unlikely that anyone would save those types of guns."

"There has to be some out there somewhere," Abby said, "I think we have a couple at least. It's a start, right? So we can fight those round little monster balls."

Gibbs smiled, putting a hand on Abby's shoulder, "You got that right,"

She nodded and turned back to the computer. They hadn't heard from Dr. Badass in almost an hour. But they'd already told each other their stories. There wasn't much left to tell and neither had been able to crack Archangel yet. Dr. Badass had mentioned a couple of other hackers he'd stumbled across, but he hadn't been in contact with them yet. He promised to let them know if he ever learned anything from either of them.

"What do you think he meant by hunters?" Abby asked.

"He sounded like he knew what he was doing," Hotch said, "Like they have military training."

"Yeah, but why not say that instead of 'hunters'?" Abby frowned, "I kind of doubt they mean the shooting Bambi sort of hunting…"

"Probably not," McGee agreed, "but what other kind of hunting is there?"

They were quiet for a long moment before Gibbs frowned, "You could always ask…"

"That is so true!" Abby said, turning to Garcia, who smiled a little and nodded.

"Already on it," she said, her fingers moving over the keyboard so fast that they nearly blurred. Abby grinned brightly at her and turned to look up at Gibbs again with wide eyes.

"I really like her," she said, "Whenever we fix all of this, can we get her to help me in the lab?"

Gibbs smiled, but shook his head, "I think Garcia's team might want to keep her for themselves…"

Abby sighed, glancing at Hotch, "Fine," she said, "but when we stop the Master I am so suing you for custody."

Garcia chuckled, "Sorry, Abby, but I can't leave my babies. I'll come visit you if you come visit me though."

"Ooh, I like that idea!" Abby nodded, "That's a deal!"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Strange," Castiel observed aloud while watching the Winchesters. "They have suffered immense physical damage and yet they are still so… hopeful. Humans are oddly resilient."

"Resilient," his brother's voice behind him didn't startle him. "or simply too stupid to recognize a fruitless struggle when they see it."

Castiel didn't argue. He knew better than to argue with Michael. The archangel moved until he was standing right next to Castiel. He slowly turned to face Michael, trying not to let his anxiousness show. Michael rarely bothered talking directly to the seraphim. Castiel always imagined that Michael thought himself better than they were. He was supposed to be the commander of the Heavenly Host, but Michael was nearly as elusive as their father at times. If Castiel had been human, he might have found that frustrating, but that was simply the way of the archangels, most of the time.

"Fruitless?" Castiel asked, "You're speaking about their decision to destroy the Master, yes?"

Michael nodded, not bothering to look at Castiel. He kept his eyes on the Winchesters. "Of course. They seek to kill him and they won't be able to."

Castiel frowned, "Should we –"

"No," Michael said, abruptly turning to face Castiel. "We will not interfere. That's why I'm here, Castiel. You have made multiple trips to Earth. You know we are not permitted to take human vessels at this time."

Castiel nodded, "I know," he said, "You have already made that very clear."

"Good," Michael nodded. "I know you're… concerned about what is going on below, but I assure you that it is nothing to us. It will not affect our Father's plan."

"But –"

"It's not our concern," Michael repeated, stressing the words pointedly. "The humans will survive this, Castiel. It is not the End. Not yet. And it is not our place to interfere in their affairs."

Castiel fought not to argue again, nodding, "Of course," he said.

Michael nodded, "See to it that you and your garrison stay in Heaven. No more trips below, Castiel. I'll be watching."

He was gone and Castiel felt that strange tightness inside of him leave. He turned his attention back to the Winchesters and tried to forget Michael's words.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The plan was about to be set in motion. The Doctor was confident that it would throw the Master off, at least for a while. They just had to make it look real enough. The first essential tool they needed, of course, was the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. The Master kept that away from the Doctor, locked inside his private quarters. Reid had seen it in there and he was sure that they could get it if they could get inside the bedroom. That was the one difficult part, of course.

They had managed to get a guard to pass along the message that Spencer has hastily scrawled to Jack and the Joneses about the escape attempt, but it wasn't going to be easy to get someone to risk going into the Master's private quarters. They had no idea how they were going to do.

Spencer had suggested making the Master angry enough to take him back there again. He felt sick just thinking of it, but if it would help them, he would do it. The Doctor vehemently refused to allow that, telling Spencer that if anyone were to sacrifice themselves it would be him.

It wasn't until late the following night that they got Jack's reply – with a suggestion for how they could get to the sonic screwdriver. The Doctor thought it was unnecessarily risky, but Spencer thought it had a chance and the Doctor reluctantly agreed that it was really the best idea they had had so far.

"We have to do something," Spencer insisted, "sitting around and thinking about it isn't going to get us any closer to escaping."

"Alright," the Doctor nodded, "but we have to approach this delicately, Spencer," he eyed the young man up and down anxiously. He was pale and bruised and his eyes had that haunted, horrified look in them that made the Doctor feel a bit sick. "I don't want you to suffer for this."

"I'll be fine," Spencer said, "it's her we should be worrying about…"

It took longer than they had thought, but eventually Lucy Saxon did enter the conference room, unaccompanied by her husband. She was as thin and pale as she had been previously, but she moved a little more stiffly and the Doctor thought her empty eyes seemed to be sadder than usual. She said nothing, bending down to check their shackles. Just as she was about to stand, the Doctor snatched her wrists and noticed that she winced at the action.

He looked down and noticed, under her long sleeves, that her wrists were bruises. He frowned and looked back up, meeting her eyes.

"Lucy…" he whispered, his voice rough, "we need your help…"

He whispered to Lucy what they wanted her to do. She never broke eye contact, her eyes sad and wide as they stared into his. Reid watched the entire exchange, noting her facial expression. It never changed from the flat, serene nothingness that it usually was. Spencer was beginning to wonder if Lucy Saxon even remembered how to smile at all.

After the Doctor was finished, he took a breath and added, "Please, Lucy," he said, "You must know what a monster he is…"

She said nothing and then looked down, jerking her hand away from the Doctor. She stood and smoothed out her skirt, not looking back at them.

"Harold will by tonight," she said, her voice empty, "his mood hasn't improved. He won't be gentle."

And that was it. She turned, heels clicking as she walked away. The door shut loudly, an ominous boom in the quiet room.

"Well… we tried…"

Several hours late, in the dead of the night, after the Master had retired for the night and the _Valiant_ was silent, Spencer was woken by the sound of the door shutting with the same loud boom. Squinting in the darkness, he shook the Doctor awake when he caught sight of Lucy Saxon. She was in a white nightdress; it was fancy and expressive looking. Her blond hair hung loose around her shoulders, shining in the dim light.

Spencer thought she looked like an angel, except her expression was as dead as ever and her eyes were far too sad.

In her hands she held the small silver screwdriver. Without a word, she pressed it into the Doctor's hands and turned, padding away, her bare feet making no sound on the hard floors.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **I know this was short… This chapter feels mostly filler to me. Not a lot happened, but things are in motion. Next chapter: the escape attempt, more communication between our hackers, some new characters and other action. I just had to write SOMETHING for you guys to read.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please, please review! Your thoughts mean the world to me! Just a few words is all I'm asking guys.


	22. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 17

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **Once again, I feel like we should just gloss over how horribly long it's taken me to write this and instead focus on the positive: NEW CHAPTER! Yay. Ahem.

Thanks to those of you who reviewed! I appreciate it!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

It was late in the morning whenever Crowley appeared outside of the old barn, seeing the doors splintered a thrown open. Even from the road, he could see the shape of a body lying face-up in the dirt and hay-strewn floor.

Carefully, he stepped around blood and muck, his upper lip curling as some of the mess stuck to his very expensive shoes. This is why he made a point to be careful when he tortured people, he mused. Appearance is everything. Plus, he liked the way the thick butcher's apron made him look, very Hannibal Lecter. He smirked and his eyes flash over the dead young woman. Amelia Richardson again. He'd been very surprised when his Hell-hound collected her soul that morning. She'd barely even lasted a day. Then again, a witch among Winchesters – it was more of a surprise that she'd lasted five minutes.

He hardly bothered to pay her attention. Witches were whores, as far as he was concerned. Stupid, power-hungry whores. His attention focused on the red-head who was sitting up with a groan. Her hair was matted with blood – in fact, her whole face was. The dark stains went all the way down her throat and shirt and she was trying to scrub it off with the back of a hand when she spotted him.

Her nostrils flared, "Crowley," she snarled, "kinda late to the party, aren't you?"

He snorted, "That's a nice look for you, Meg," he said, "The Winchesters do that? Isn't this, what, the third time they've beaten you? I think you might be off your game, Sweetheart. Azazel would be interested to hear about yet another failure."

She glared at him, "This wouldn't even be a problem if you'd just killed them last night, when you had a chance." Her eyes flashed black, "Think he'd like to hear that?"

"Someone's not reading the memos," Crowley said, "Sam Winchester is off limits,"

"Dean isn't," she growled, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Dean's an idiot," Crowley snapped, "besides, think Sammy will be inclined to do anything Azazel wants if we kill his brother?"

Meg rolled her eyes, "I don't exactly care about the plan right now,"

"No," Crowley nodded, "just petty vengeance. You know what they say about revenge."

She hissed and threw her hands up, sending Crowley flying back toward the barn's entrance. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" she snapped, "Some pathetic crossroads demon?"

"King of the Crossroads," Crowley corrected her, standing and brushing himself off with look of distain, "but if you don't want my advice, fine. I don't particularly like you much anyway."

"It's mutual," Meg said. She didn't bother saying anything else, her eyes flaring black again as she opened her mouth and a cloud of black smoke escaped, flying out of the barn while the host body screamed. Crowley watched with distant eyes as the red-headed woman collapsed, choking on her own blood as she started bleeding internally again. It took her almost a full minute to die.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Tosh straightened from her position bent under the hood and grimaced. Her back ached and her hands were sore, but she figured they were nearly ready to try to hotwire the car. She watched Owen, still bent down, furiously working and muttering to himself. His hand slid and hit something, causing him to jerk up and bang his head on the open hood.

"Fuck!" he swore, scowling and rubbing his head viciously, glaring down at the engine.

"Owen –"

He cut her off, muttering more swears as he moved toward the driver's side door. Before he could pull it open, Tosh's hand shot out and grabbed him by the elbow, "Owen, stop," she said, frowning. He turned toward her with narrowed eyes and she let out a huff, pushing hair from her face.

"You need to calm down,"

"I am calm,"

"No you're not," she said, "you're far from calm, Owen. You're starting to scare me."

His face softened just a bit at those words, but he still turned away and she frowned, sliding in front of him and blocking the door. "I'm being serious, Owen."

"So am I," he said, "we need to try to get this car started so we can get out of here as soon as we can. The longer we stay here, the more danger we're putting everyone else in."

Tosh shook her head, "You're head isn't in the right place here, Owen," she said, "Why don't you go inside and watch John. Send Jake out here, he can help me."

"_I'm _helping you," Owen snapped.

"What you're doing is pushing yourself," she said, "I don't think swearing constantly is doing us much good with the car. Send Jake out, we'll finish it. Besides, John needs a real doctor."

"John _is_ a doctor," Owen said, "he can tell Jake what to do."

"Owen," Tosh narrowed her eyes. She didn't want to be angry at him, but she was getting frustrated. She knew he was hurting – they all were – but she also knew that they needed to focus. Grieving was necessary. Being an angry ass was not.

His jaw tightened and he eyed her for a long moment before turning on his heel, muttering to himself. Tosh watched him go and winced as he slammed the door loudly behind him. Her shoulders sagged and she turned toward the car again, biting her lip and fighting back a fresh round of tears as she heard the door open and Jake's footsteps behind her.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"I'm picking up a lot more active users in the network," Abby said, "it's like they're all getting closer to breaking it altogether, but missing something. I can see them there though,"

"You can see them?" Tony frowned, "how?"

"They're like… little pocket worlds," Garcia said, "inside Archangel. Just barely hidden, not operating outside of it,"

"Like infiltrators," Abby said, "Ya know, they're _in_ the network, but not quite a part of it. I'm surprised the Master hasn't picked up on them yet, but there's something keeping them not-totally visible."

"So why can we see them?"

Abby shrugged, looking to Garcia who shook her head. "No idea," Garcia said, "but we can. At least, now we can. We couldn't before…"

"Can we communicate with them?" Hotch asked, frowning.

"Probably," Abby said, she and Garcia already sending messages through to as many of the others as they could explaining that they were federal agents in the US and asking for contact. "They have some interesting handles though…" she smirked.

"Handles?" Gibbs frowned.

"Hacker handles," Garcia said, "like a user name, you know."

Gibbs blinked again and she sighed, "It's basically their alias inside the network."

"Ah," he nodded slowly and Abby just laughed, shaking her head.

"Anyway," she said, "they're really interesting. Like, I thought 'Dr. Badass' was strange, but we've got a 'Princess Leia' showing up now and there's one that's gone dark that was apparently 'Torchwood Three' and then there's 'Mr. Smith' which only makes me think about that movie…" she smiled.

"Ooh! We've got something," Garcia waved her hand excitedly and Abby turned back to the screen, "It's from Mr. Smith…" her eyes scanned the message.

"It's a woman," Abby said, "She's in the UK… Her name's Sarah Jane –"

"Sarah Jane Smith?" Ducky asked, leaning forward to look at the screens.

"I guess," Abby said, "she didn't give a last name. Did you know her?"

He smiled, "I met her when I was with UNIT," he said, "If I recall correctly, very bright young woman."

Reid's eyes were wide, "She was on the Wanted List," he said, "Her name is fairly high up, which means she probably poses a threat to the Master rather than just being a one of the Doctor's old friends. She could know something that could help us, she could -"

"Holy your horses, Junior G-Man," Garcia said, "we've got to give it a minute. She says she's in an underground safe house. She's got a bunch of kids with her and – holy cow – some kind of supercomputer she calls Mr. Smith."

"No wonder she was able to get in undetected," Abby whistled.

"We should tell her about Ducky," Prentiss suggested, "she might remember him."

The two women were already on it when another quiet beep came and they blinked, "She asked if we've heard of Martha Jones…"

"The Jones girl?" Rossi frowned, "Isn't the Master after her? She was on the Wanted list…"

"She was," McGee nodded, "her family is the one that's on the _Valiant_. It was her brother, I think, the Master killed that day, remember?"

"Apparently," Garcia said, "Martha is one of the Doctor's friends too,"

"How many friends does this man have?" Fornell frowned.

"Well," Ducky said, "The Doctor is quite old and enjoyed traveling,"

"In a time machine," Reid added, "He probably has friends all over the world."

"Then that should make it that much easier for us to fight this guy. If we can get everyone connected together, ready for a fight –" Gibbs said, but Garcia cut him off before he could finish the thought.

"The Doctor has a plan," she said, looking back toward everyone.

"A plan?" Hotch frowned.

"What plan?" Gibbs asked.

"She's getting to it…" Abby said, her eyes still on the screen, "she says she can't give us everything. It's too dangerous until Archangel is cracked. But she says to be on the lookout for Martha… She's been traveling, to get the plan out to as many people as possible."

"To rally the troops?"

"I guess," Garcia said, "According to Sarah Jane, the plan is going to need everyone's cooperation to work, so Martha is making sure everyone gets it and passes it along…"

"We're definitely not fighting alone," Tony said, hope in his voice in the first time in a long time.

"Definitely not," Prentiss agreed, a small smile on her face. "The Master didn't know what he was dealing with when he decided to attack the Earth."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Charlie Bradbury – as she'd started calling herself a few months ago, just before the Decimation – was definitely _not_ panicking. Nope. Not at all. Her eyes scanned the dismal Palo Alto skyline, looking for more Toclafane. She clutched a satchel around her neck carrying her one and only item of value: her old laptop. There was a noise to her left and she skittered back several feet, letting out a loud squeak before covering her mouth.

Damn it, she was not liking this. She kept closing her eyes and telling herself it was like any number of apocalyptic scenarios she'd played through on her computer, but this was real and not going away. Real life was so much more frightening than a game – though she did at least have one advantage: she knew how to disappear.

The scuffling noise grew louder and she grew just a tiny bit braver, holding a broken flashlight out in front of her like a weapon as she approached the alley. A cat jumped out at her and she nearly squeaked again, then her shoulders sagged and she started laughing at herself.

"It's just a cat," she said, the sound of her own voice somehow comforting. "Stop being ridiculous, Charlie, you've got to keep it together."

She scanned the area again and, with a glance back at the horribly emaciated cat, she bit her lip. For a long moment, she debated about the cat, then scooped it up into her arms and took off in a slightly clumsy jog toward her destination, keeping her eyes peeled for Toclafane at every turn. It took her hours, the sun hovering high in the sky by the time she finally reached the old motel, but it was worth it.

No one, at least no one human, came near the old motels anymore. Not in this area at least. Most of Palo Alto was entirely deserted, the people moved to Pasadena or Sacramento to where the work camps were. Palo Alto was a place of refuge for underground camps and safe houses. Toclafane did regular sweeps of the area, but Charlie figured she could dodge them easy enough if she kept moving around.

She found an empty room that was mostly intact and made herself more or less at home. The electricity didn't work, but, to her delight, there was water. No hot water heater, unfortunately, but a cold shower was better than no shower. She shared some of her food – mostly dried beef jerky which she absolutely despised – with the cat and went to clean herself up before settling down at her laptop and firing it up.

She scratched the cat behind the ears, smiling as it purred at her.

"Alright," she said, "time to take another crack at this Archangel thing Emperor Douchebag set up…"

Her eyes were focused on the glowing screen whenever she heard the scream – it was pained and difficult to make out, but after a moment she was certain she heard someone screaming for help. Tensing, she held her breath and waited, silently praying that she was imagining things. Then the scream cam again, out of breath and hard to discern. Gulping, Charlie shut the laptop and shoved it back into her back, carrying it with her as she left the motel room. The cat – she figured she'd have to pick name for him soon, seeing as she'd apparently adopted him – followed her out cautiously.

She felt a bit calmer with the cat there and smiled down at him, "You're a brave little guy, huh?" she asked, "Braver than me at least…" She looked forward and eased her way down the sidewalk in the direction she thought the sound came from.

As she went, she threw open motel doors and found nothing. She was apparently totally alone. She was starting to think she really _had _imagined the voice whenever she finally heard it again, louder and clearer this time.

"HELP! SOMONE!"

She bit her lip and turned toward the section of doors, easing toward them and throwing them open one at a time, jumping back quickly in case someone attacked. Nothing happened until her third try whenever she threw the door open, jumped back and edged forward to see a young, dark skinned man lying on the bed.

He was only half-conscious by the look of it, his skin tight and gaunt against his face. And there was blood. A lot of blood. More blood than Charlie was comfortable seeing. Bile rose in her throat and she tried not to vomit as she eased inside.

She didn't exactly know much about doctoring, but she'd do whatever she could. She grimaced as her eyes locked on the pool of blood and realized that it was so thick because his left arm was wrapped in bloody sheets and his hand was missing entirely. Resisting the urge to vomit she moved closer. He didn't seem to notice her, but whenever she put a gentle hand on his forehead, his eyes jerked open and locked on her, his breathing speeding up.

"Who are you?"

His voice was raspy and thick with pain, but so tired. She tried not to think too much and instead just took a deep breath.

"Ch-Charlie," she said, "Um… Look, I'm not a doctor or anything, but do you – I mean… I can help. Maybe. Try to at least."

He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace and she took that as consent enough. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out the rest of the jerky and half a bottle of water she'd been trying to save. She had bandages too, but she wasn't sure how much good they'd do him.

He winced as he swallowed the food and water – she made sure he ate and drank slowly and didn't take too much water. He was probably dehydrated and she knew enough to know drinking too much too fast would make him sick.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tried to think of anything she could remember from medical shows she'd watched. There wasn't much. She eased the sheet wrapped around the hand away and forced herself not to look too closely.

"W-What's your name?" she asked, glancing up at his face, remembering vaguely that keeping a person talking could help.

"G-Guster," he coughed, but smiled at her, a bit less grimace-like this time. "Burton Guster,"

"Well," Charlie tipped the water over the wound, certain that the clean cut had been made by a Toclafane's sharp blade. She shuddered as she saw the bone. "Burton Guster, don't you worry about anything. I'll have you patched up in now time,"

"Thought you weren't a doctor?"

She shrugged, "Well, I'm not," she said, lifting the injured arm and looking away as she began to put a fresh bandage over th area, "but I played one on TV," she joked.

He laughed and she smiled brightly. Well, at least he was so far gone he couldn't get a joke.

The cat jumped up onto the bed and he eyed it curiously, "He yours?"

"I guess," she shrugged, "I just found him… He's kinda cute though, isn't he?" He was a grey cat, with eyes that matched. He tilted his head up at her, giving her a strangely human stare before easing his way toward Burton's head and mewing gently.

"Think he likes you," she said, sitting back as she finished bandaging the arm and wrapping a tourniquet around the wrist to help stop the bleeding. It was really all she knew to do. She could only hope she hadn't done more harm than good and silently wish for a doctor.

He eyed the cat a bit warily, "What's his name?"

She pursed her lips, thinking. Well, if she was going to keep him he'd definitely need a name. "Gandalf," she said, and Burton smiled at her, "Gandalf the Grey."

He laughed and she looked him over, "Any other injuries?"

She hoped not. She really, really hoped not because she wasn't sure she could stomach it. She already needed to scrub herself again and she wasn't sure she'd ever get the blood out of her skin. He shook his head and she relaxed.

"I'll get more water and food in a couple of hours," she said, "you look like you need it."

He smiled gratefully at her as she went to see if the sink in the bathroom was working so she could wash her hands. When she came back out, Burton was cautiously petting Gandalf with his right hand, eyes softening as the cat purred at him.

She plopped herself on the floor and pulled out her laptop, firing it up once more to get to work.

"So…" she looked up at him, "what's your story?"

He frowned and started telling her about his friends in Santa Barbara, about the trip he'd been on with one of the guys when they'd been attacked and separated. He'd nearly gotten captured by the Master's men, but he'd managed to give them the slip and ran for it. He'd been doing fine, trying to get back to Santa Barbara, but unable to find anyone to help. And then a day ago another run in with Toclafane had ended with him losing his hand.

She tried not to grimace as she listened, but it was a horrible story. He kept talking about his friend Shawn and how he'd been worried sick about him. How he needed to find them again. She pressed her lips together.

"Don't worry," she said, "we'll find your friends. And then we can work together to kick the Master's butt."

He laughed but she was serious about that. She turned her attention to the computer and he asked her what she was doing. She tried to explain it in technical terms, but stopped herself and said, "Trying to hack this Archangel network. I know there's a way in, I just need to find it." She frowned, "it's never taken me this long to hack something before."

She hated the Master all the more for creating something she couldn't hack so quickly. She'd hacked NATO for God's sake! This should not be this difficult. Then again, alien technology might have something to do with it.

"Is there anyone else trying?"

"Lots of people," Charlie nodded, "I've been in contact with a woman called Sarah Jane," she said, "She's got some massive supercomputer or something. A couple of days ago I spotted someone in the network, messaging, but I haven't been able to track them down yet. The more people we get working on this though, the better our chances are."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Owen was less than happy, but he knew Tosh was right. His head was in a dark place. He wasn't going to apologize for that; he felt like he had a right to be pissed. It wasn't helping anything, but he couldn't really be bothered by that when he felt like something had been ripped from out of his chest.

He sat himself down next to John and checked the bandage on his legs. He appeared to be doing okay, considering the circumstances. He was at least not bleeding and the dressing, while bloody, was clean. He'd help him change it in a couple of hours.

They were silent for a long, tense moment and Owen could only be grateful that Sherlock was still upstairs doing whatever it was he was doing. Owen honestly didn't care. He was just glad that he had the decency to stay out of his way.

"You know," John said suddenly, shifting a bit so that he could get a better look at Owen's face, "if Gwen _were_ here right now she'd tell you that you're being an arse."

Owen's lips tightened, "Well, she's not because she'd _dead_,"

John flinched a bit at the harsh tone, but shook his head, "You know she'd be upset that your acting like a dick," he said, "I know it hurts, Owen. I didn't know her as long as you, but Gwen was a good person and she didn't deserve to die like that, but you've got to get your head on straight. There's a bloody war still going on out there."

"Maybe I don't care anymore,"

"Not about Toshiko? Or Ianto? Me and Jake?" John frowned, "or just not about yourself?"

Owen sent him an angry glare and turned his attention toward the window, "Where is Ianto?"

"Upstairs," John said, "and you're avoiding the question."

"I don't want to talk about it," Owen said, his eyes shifting around the barren front yard and landing on Tosh and Jake by the car. Suddenly he went rigid and spun around.

"Owen –"

"Shut up," Owen hissed, ducking down and digging through the duffle.

"What are you –"

"There are people outside," Owen snapped, "They're armed."

"Shit," John swore and Owen finally straightened up, pulling out the gun he'd been trying to find. "You need to warn Ianto and Sherlock."

Owen pressed his lips together but didn't look happy about it. He grabbed a blanket and through it over John entirely, hoping that if they looked inside they wouldn't spot him immediately. He gave John a gun and hurried upstairs as quickly as he could.

From downstairs he hears Tosh scream and then a man's guttural yell and he nearly whirls around and races downstairs again when a long-fingered hand grabs him and snatches the gun away. Ianto, white faced and pale, hurried down past them and Owen met Sherlock's cold eyes with a glare.

"What are you doing?"

"Ianto is getting our things together and hiding John. I suggest you help him."

"Like hell I will," Owen snarled, "give me the gun,"

"You're angry," Sherlock said, already bounding down the stairs, "Your aim won't be a true if you're clouded with emotions."

"And yours will?"

Sherlock turned to look at him again, "I'm an excellent shot." He said.

The sounds of a struggle could be heard very clearly outside now, Tosh was saying something in fast voice and it took Owen a second to understand – "We're alone," There were several hard words and swears from Jake and then a distinct crunching, snapping sound. Sherlock moved quickly toward the window and his eyes were wide.

"Your friend seems to have broken one of their necks," he observed.

Owen ignored him in favor of helping Ianto get John into a standing position. He couldn't hear what else was being said, but suddenly Sherlock lifted the gun, took aim and squeezed off a shot. There was a faint thud that followed the loud bang and seconds later Tosh and Jake rushed into the house with wide, panicked eyes. There was blood on Tosh's mouth and Jake appeared to have been splatted by it. Owen tried not to let either of those things make him angry.

"We've got to get out of here," Tosh said, her voice still high pitched.

"Is the car in running condition?"

"It's good enough," Jake said, already grabbing the duffle bag, "we need to move. There are probably more patrols in the area, let's go!"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

They waited until nightfall the following night to make their escape. The Master was asleep, the guards were at their minimum and there was no one inside the conference room except the Doctor and Spencer.

The air was heavy with tension as the Doctor slipped the small screwdriver from his pocket where he'd hidden it and pointed it at the manacles holding them to the wall. With a faint whirring sound and a glow of blue light, the manacles snapped open, clicking as they fell to the floor. Spencer lifted his wrists and examined the deep bruises. There were worse bruises on his ankles. The Doctor eyed the dark skin with a well of guilt and then pulled Spencer to his feet gently.

"We have to move," he whispered hoarsely.

It was almost too easy for them to move through the bowels of the ship. There weren't many guards on patrol the farther down they went. As they reached the cells where the Joneses and Jack were being kept, the Doctor exclaimed his confusion at the surprising ease and lack of guards. Even the Master couldn't be this arrogant, could he?

But at the sight of the Joneses in the cell, he stopped worrying about their so far unimpeded escape and instead felt his blood boil. He tried very hard not to think about what the Master had done to this family. Francine Jones seemed like a shadow of herself, leaning into her ex-husband's arms, fitfully sleeping. Tish looked like a beaten child, bruises on her face and wrists that the Doctor could see where she'd curled up like a child at the head of the makeshift bed.

They were all asleep except for Jack, who looked, possibly, the worst of them all. Beaten and bruised and covered in sweat and blood and grime. He spotted the Doctor and Reid and a big smile spread across his face.

"Thought you'd never show up," he said as the cell doors swung open and Reid roused the Joneses from their sleep.

"We had to wait until everyone was asleep," the Doctor said, moving quickly over to Jack to undo his restraints. Jack practically moaned as he was able to move again, rolling his shoulders and stretching taut muscles that had been cramped into on position for far too long.

"Oh, that feels good," he sighed.

"Where to, exactly?" Clive asked, his arms still around Francine. Tish stood very close to her parents, holding herself around her middle and not saying anything at all, just staring at the Doctor with wide, pleading eyes.

"We're going back down this way," the Doctor said, "It'll be dangerous, since we're in the air, but there are rescue crafts and air masks on the top level. If we can reach that, you and your family go first. Then Spencer and Jack."

Jack frowned, eyeing the Doctor, "You weren't kidding about you not escaping,"

"I have to be here," the Doctor said, "to infiltrate the network. But if there's a chance of the rest of you getting safe then we have to take it."

"I don't like it," Spencer said, "I don't want to leave you here by yourself."

"Spencer –"

"The kid's right, Doctor," Jack said, "You're barely holding on as it is. The Master is gonna be any less cruel just because you're the only prisoner on board. We can find some other way to get you into Archangel –"

"No," The Doctor shook his head, "I have to get in through the inside. The Master won't notice it that way. Now come on, we're wasting time."

The trip back up out of the cells seemed as easy as the trip down. They moved quietly through the twisting halls and up to the main section of the ship. Everyone was starting to feel a bit uneasy at how quiet the ship seemed to be. Even at this time of night, there were always random patrols going by, but they'd yet to see a single guard the whole way up.

"Something's wrong," Spencer whispered, edging closer to the Doctor. The Doctor reached out without thought and clutched Reid's hand in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"We'll be fine," he whispered, though the doubt in his voice was not missed by any of them.

It happened as they rounded the final corner, about to approach the bay area with the equipment for going down to the earth. They heard the steady, mocking sound of someone clapping and came to an abrupt halt.

They could see him, but they heard the Master's voice over the speakers.

"Bravo, Doctor," he said, "you nearly made it! I must say, I expected a better plan from you. You really should've been more anxious at how easy it was to get to the cells."

His hearts were racing in his chest as he made the group spin around and they came face to face with several armed guards, guns pointed at them. Spencer's hand in his clenched tightly, cutting off feeling for a moment. He heard Jack yell for them to run, but didn't quite register the fact that his feet were moving until he was halfway down the corridor.

He stumbled and Jack caught him, tugging him up and pushing him along and he managed to drag Reid with him. There were bullets ricocheting inside the tight metal space and then a loud, pained gasp came from somewhere behind him.

"Jack!" Spencer screamed and turned around, coming to a stop as Jack fell, a round hole in the center of his forehead.

"He'll be fine!" the Doctor insisted, pulling Reid along, his own real thought being that he had failed and the people he was trying to protect were going to suffer for it. There was another scream and he spun to see Clive, clutching his shoulder, blood pouring out of the wound. He stumbled to a stop and turned to run back, helping Francine pull Clive to his feet again. Reid was standing next to Tish then, staring anxiously at the mouth of the corridor ahead.

"We're trapped," he whispered.

The Doctor looked up and saw the guards waiting there, heard the distant sounds of the guards that were chasing them. His shoulders sagged and he continued to help hold Clive up as the guards kept them in place with their guns. Somewhere behind them he heard Jack gasping back to life and then the slow, steady sound of footsteps came and the guards parted.

The Master stood there, still in his suit, eyes bright, a manic grin on his face as he eyed his prisoners. Without a word, he aimed the laser screwdriver at the Doctor, the bright light zapping out and hitting him full in the chest.

Reid screamed as the Doctor crumpled and convulsed, and the Doctor felt his hands on his face, trying to help him sit up again. Everything was spinning and burning and twitching and he had to blink several times just to focus on Reid's face.

The Master seemed absolutely delighted by the sight in front of him, still grinning that manic, full grin of his.

"Well, now, what am I going to do about this horrible disobedience? Doctor? Any ideas?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **So… that happened. Urm. Not really sure. I don't hate this chapter, but I hate writing "action" scenes and I kind of suck at it, I think, so I'm never sure how they really turned out.

Also, for those of you who don't know: Charlie is the adorable, nerdy hacker-chick from _Supernatural_ and also Princess Leia is her handle. I'm not terribly fond of that though, so if anyone has a better idea of what Charlie would use as a handle, let me know! I went with Princess Leia being of her tattoo.

(And please guys, don't hate me for cutting Gus' hand off! I could've killed him, just so you know, but I wanted him to be alive! …I'm also note quite sure yet how he ended up in Palo Alto which is over 100 miles from Sacramento, but I'll figure it out!)

Opinions are much loved! Please review, even just a couple of words will be appreciated! Hope you enjoyed!


	23. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 18

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **I am so sorry that this chapter took so long guys! I have an extremely good excuse though! My laptop fell and the screen is busted. I'm using my mom's at the moment and am unfortunately unable to get to anything I didn't already have backed up on a flash drive. Which means that I had to re-write about 1/3 of this chapter that I already had written. I also don't have access to ANY of my planning for this story or anything else I already had written so I'm not actually sure if this even follows 100% with what I had done.

I'm sorry for the delay! I'm going to try to get the next chapters out faster, but with the computer situation I can't make any guarantees. These chapters already take me a long time to write without the issues. *sigh*

Anyway. Hope you enjoy and please don't forget to review!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

Martha's breath hitched painfully in her chest. Her body ached from nights slept on the ground, in tight spaces and uncomfortable places. She'd stayed anywhere from abandoned homes and hotels to hiding in trees in the forest. She tried not to stay with the people in work camps too often, lest they be caught hiding her and killed for their kindness. Of course, in four long months she was beginning to wish that she had accepted more offers of warm beds.

The thought of her bed back home made her a bit dreamy as she remembered late mornings when she'd wake to the smells of her mother cooking downstairs and Tish and Leo arguing playfully. Her heart ached as she thought of her family. She missed them so much.

She shook her head and forced herself to focus. She had a job to do after all, and her time was steadily slipping away from her. She tried to move as fast as she could, getting the story out and pleading with people to spread the word as quickly as they could. It wasn't easy to keep things contained and yet get the story out. They couldn't risk open communications, but a network of hackers had banded together and began developing their own code so that the story and plan could slowly start to trickle out.

Martha hoped that would make her job easier as she travelled.

She'd already been through Portugal, Spain, France, Belgium and the vast majority of Europe. At the moment, she found herself in Russia – Moscow, to be exact. Surveying the ancient city, she couldn't help but feel a bit sick.

She'd never seen Moscow outside of pictures in a history book, but she knew that it had been utterly destroyed. The Kremlin had been demolished to make way for the Master's weapons factories; Red Square was unrecognizable with the huge factories and work camps. Smoke hang thick in the air, giving the entire city a permanently early dawn-late evening look. The sun fought valiantly to illuminate the ground below, but it was a losing battle.

From where she was standing she could see the remnants of St. Basil's Cathedral. The impressive church was a shadow of itself – paint scrapped off and faded, windows shattered and boarded up, parts of the mighty towers and spires smashed or missing altogether. There were people making their way back to the work camps, Toclafane buzzing around their heads and guards standing stone-faced around the perimeter. It wasn't going to be easy for Martha to sneak her way into a camp.

The Master had been busy in the last few months, implanting his factories and putting his plans further into motion. If things stayed on tack, the earth would be ready for planetary war in eight months. Eight short months to stop the total destruction of the entire universe. Martha's gut clenched and she clutched at the TARDIS key at her throat, wishing for the Doctor's support. Or anyone's for that matter. She'd never felt so alone in all her life, despite the kind, brave people who assisted her and the friends and allies she'd made on her journey, she couldn't help feeling like everything was riding on her.

She'd been contact with Sarah Jane several times over the past months, catching up on everything. Sarah Jane and Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, along with Torchwood Three and Sherlock were practically running the entire resistance in the eastern hemisphere and making contacts in the west as well.

Martha was worried when she heard that the majority of people in the west were still arming themselves for an attack on the Master. Sarah Jane tried to dissuade them, but they wanted the Master's head on a platter and Martha couldn't blame them. She only hoped they'd be able to convince them of its futility before anything bad happened. It wasn't as simple as just telling them they couldn't kill the Master, after all.

Martha had learned that the hard way already. Most everyone wanted the Master dead and it took a lot of talking and explaining to get them to see things otherwise. And looking at the desecrated, ancient capitol, Martha had a bad feeling it wasn't going to be easy to convince these people that they shouldn't seek revenge.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"This is pathetic," Dean muttered, tossing back the sawed-off shotgun he'd been examining. Henricksen, Sam and Adam all turned to frown at him from where Sam and Henricksen were teaching Adam to shoot. He'd had a bit of practice, but over the last few months they'd made the seventeen year old sit out any outing – using his injuries as a reason. Adam wasn't happy about being left out, especially considering Sam, Dean and Henricksen barely let their own wounds heal before working again.

They'd taken a couple of weeks to heal before re-embarking on their mission to find that safe house. After three days, they did find it, but it had been almost entirely cleaned out almost a week before. Toclafane had wiped out all but four cops who didn't come back to Rufus' with them, but who had since stayed in contact and helped them get into contact with several other safe houses as well.

Ash was quickly becoming their most important asset – if he hadn't been before – and had managed to get in contact with people from all over the world forming a resistance. He'd been talking closely with a group of agents in Virginia and they'd been working on a plan to take down the Master and eradicate the Toclafane problem as well.

So far, they hadn't gotten as far as they wanted on the "Kill the Master" plan and, apparently, were hearing from others that some "Doctor" had a plan to save them all, but that it wouldn't work with them killing the Master. They were skeptical about it, but then, so was everyone else. Dean and Gordon – for once – both agreed that they should proceed as planned until they had solid reasons not to.

The agents they'd been talking with seemed to know what they were doing and Henricksen knew a few of them – Agent Gibbs, Hotchner and Fornell he knew very well – but they were all still wary of each other.

They'd told them that they were hunters, but beyond that they had waited more than a week to give a proper answer and when they did – deciding that the truth might not be so insane given the circumstances – the agents had responded with the same incredulity as most people tended to when confronted with supernatural monsters. However, once Henricksen arrived and was able to confirm the stories, they eased into accepting it far more quickly than Dean had expected.

Of course, they hadn't mentioned that Dean and Sam Winchester were among them. Henricksen felt that was something that trained agents would probably need to see to believe. Especially agents like those in the BAU who had already worked up a psychological profile of the brothers.

"It's what we've got," Henricksen reminded him as he eyed their admittedly meager arsenal. They had been gathering as many weapons as they possibly could, but they didn't have nearly enough for Dean's liking. And despite how many months they'd been searching for an electric weapon that would be good enough to down a Toclafane, they hadn't even found a single stun gun. Ash was working on putting something together, but it wasn't quite ready yet.

"If we're gonna take down the Master we need more guns," Dean said, "_better_ guns."

"According that doctor – Ducky – the guns won't work," Sam pointed out from where he stood behind Adam.

"Can't hurt to try," Dean muttered.

"And what if you do get a chance to shoot him?" Sam scowled, "What if you get a clear shot and you take it and he doesn't die? What then?"

"Well then I guess I'll die knowing I tried," Dean snapped, glaring at his brother darkly.

"Damn it, Dean!" Sam's jaw tightened and he shook his head, muttering swears under his breath before turning back to Adam and correcting his stance. Adam and Henricksen remained – smartly – silent about the argument. They'd been snapping at each other on and off for more than a month now and getting in the way had already cost Garth and Martin a couple of new bruises when one of the brothers lashed out.

Sam's grip on Adam's shoulders was a bit tight, but Adam just nodded as Sam explained how to take aim and pull the hammer down before squeezing the trigger. They'd been working with revolvers and handguns for a few days and Sam was leery of teaching Adam to shoot the rifle, remembering the bruises he'd gotten as a kid when he hadn't been as mindful of the kickback as he should've.

By now, though, Adam could brace himself against the force of the shot from the revolver and his aim was surprising good for a first-timer.

"Don't know why you're teaching him how to shoot anyway," Dean said off-handedly. "He's not going out there."

Sam let go of Adam's shoulders, turning to send Dean a venomous glare, "Dean, he needs to –"

"He needs to stay here where it's safe so he doesn't get himself killed!" Dean talked over him, practically yelling at that point. "Sending some kid out there is a bad idea, Sam and you know it."

Adam sighed and met Henricksen's eyes over Dean's shoulder, making a face. Henricksen just smiled and shook his head. If Sam and Dean kept up their fighting, Henricksen was pretty sure they'd start shooting at each other eventually. They'd been stuck together for too long as far as he could tell. But no matter what Rufus, Gordon or anyone else said, they refused to work without each other. It was a strange relationship, that much was for sure.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Doing okay, Gus?" Charlie was walking ahead of her newfound companion, with Gandalf the cat trailing around her ankles. She glanced back behind her to see Gus struggling a bit to keep up. They'd been walking for several hours and were just inside Sacramento – finally.

Gus had wanted them to head for Santa Barbara, but then remembered that he and McNab had been in Sacramento when they were attacked months previous and Charlie suggested that they start there instead, in case they found his friends looking for him there.

They'd spent much of the past few months traveling very slowly across California. Gus' wound had taken a considerable amount of time to heal and Charlie was still worried that it wasn't healed properly. The bleeding had stopped and she made sure to help him clean and change his bandages every day, but the skin was swollen and raw looking around the smooth edges of the cut. At least it didn't smell of infection and nothing appeared to leak out of it.

"I'm good," Gus sounded tired as he replied, taking in deep gulps on air.

Charlie pressed her lips together and stopped, waiting for Gus to catch up to her.

"Maybe we should stop for the day,"

"No, no," Gus shook his head, waiving his good hand and looking apologetic. "I've already slowed us down enough. We're so close now…"

"We'll get there," Charlie promised, "but you're not looking so good, Gus. Look, it's almost sundown anyway. Let's just find some place to crash and I'll try to charge the laptop and hop on the network and see what the others are saying, alright? We'll get food and take off first time tomorrow morning."

Charlie had been talking with other hackers in the network of the resistance for the past several months. They'd formed a sort of strange friendship in their mutual hatred for the Master. Of course, Charlie wasn't one who was normally violent, but she had to admit, she really wanted to rip off that bastard's face. She was a bit upset when Sarah Jane explained that they had a plan, but that assassination wasn't it. Charlie supposed that did make sense if killing the Master really would be as difficult as they were all saying – _"The really evil ones always need a special sword!"* she'd ranted to Gus. _

They were still working on trying to get the plan across over Archangel; no one was quite ready to send sensitive information over the network in fear of the Master intercepting it. But they'd been able to learn a lot over the network about how they could band together and the plan to find some sort of electrical weapon to down a Toclafane was in motion, as far as Charlie knew, in several parts of the world.

Charlie only wished that she had something to build an electric laser gun with. That would not only have been totally awesome, but very useful in defending themselves.

"Well, alright. It _is _getting pretty late. We should conserve our energy as much as possible," Gus nodded, but he looked guilty and Charlie gave him a reassuring smile to assure him that she wasn't bothered by having to slow down for him. After all, they were his friends they were looking for. Charlie didn't exactly have any family or even friends to be locating anyway and it felt nice to help someone else who needed it.

She bent and lifted Gandalf into her arms so that he wouldn't wander off, "Alright, I think we're pretty close to an abandoned neighborhood. We might even get to sleep in actual beds tonight. If they still have mattresses…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Juliet clung to Shawn as she hobbled her way to the kitchen area. It was nearly nightfall and most everyone else was getting ready to retire to bed, but Juliet couldn't sleep. She had been walking more on her own for the past week or so, but the muscle damage in her leg was severe and walking was difficult. She more hopped than walked and Lassiter and Rigsby had recently set about making her some kind of walker or cane so that she could move around more freely.

Juliet, of course, hated that she wasn't able to do more on her own and really hated that no one wanted her to go back outside of the safe house with her leg so mangled. She wanted to do be and help more, but that was sadly impossible.

"I thought you were going out with your dad to search for Gus again?" she asked, glancing up at Shawn as he helped her ease down into a chair.

Shawn's mouth pulled down into a frown for just a second, but then he forcibly made himself smile as he shook his head, "Not tonight," he said, "Tonight is about you and me…" His eyes sparkled just a bit and he half-sang the end of his words, making Juliet want to laugh.

"So what'll it be, Jules? We've got uh, jerky, more jerky, we've got some crackers and water and ooh, look, coffee!"

"It's a little late for coffee, Shawn,"

Shawn nodded and searched through their meager food supplies. They didn't have much aside from dry foods and a couple of candy bars that everyone agreed they should allow the children to have.

"I would kill for a Pineapple-Mango smoothie…" Shawn sighed forlornly as he turned back to face Juliet and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Mmm, a smoothie would nice, wouldn't it?"

Shawn smiled, "Well then, I'll make you one!"

She snorted, "You're going to make me a smoothie?" she asked, "With what?"

"With my awesome smoothie superpowers!" Shawn said, "I am _Smoothie Man!_"

Juliet couldn't stop herself from laughing as Shawn made an ultra-serious face, thrust one arm into the air and cried out "Da dada da!" before diving into their supplies with zeal. Moments later, he pulled out one bright red apple and tossed it around between his hands, frowning at it.

"How is this the only fruit we have?" he demanded, "This is a disgrace! Not one delicious citrus fruit! No mangos, no oranges, none of those awesome little tangelo things…"

Juliet smiled at him, "An apple is fine, Shawn,"

He sighed dramatically, but handed her the apple and sat down across from her, "You mark my words, Jules," he said, "I will make you a smoothie. I will."

She bit into the apple and nodded, "Alright," she said, "When all of this over, you owe me a smoothie. In fact, we can have a whole smoothie party and invite everyone."

Shawn's eyes were so bright, Juliet was reminded of how things had been before the Decimation. Before the last few months of fruitless searches for Gus had made Shawn turn into a shadow of his former self. She hated seeing him so sad and un-Shawn-like.

The moment was brief and ended quickly whenever Lisbon walked into the kitchen with Dr. Holloway, talking about one of the kids who had come down with a fever that morning and wasn't getting any better.

Juliet turned her gaze away from Shawn and listen to their conversation, feeling Shawn's eyes on her the entire time.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"It's weird isn't it?" Fornell glanced over at Rossi where the former agent sat next to him at the table. They had been playing poker – Fornell, Rossi, Hotch, Morgan, Reid, Ducky and Tony – a few minutes earlier, but the game had ended after Reid won nearly every hand and Tony and Morgan were accusing the younger man of cheating. At the moment, Fornell and Rossi were simply sitting at the rickety old table, watching everyone else go about their usual business.

Abby, Garcia and McGee were at the computers, talking in a language Fornell didn't understand – though he liked to think he was at least more fluent in tech-speak than Gibbs was. They'd been communicating with the other hackers that they'd found inside Archangel for the past few months, developing plans for figuring out more about the Toclafane and for taking down the Master.

They were hearing that there was a plan – a plan from the Doctor no less – in motion, but everyone was still worried about communicating it over the network and risking the Master intercepting it. Right now, they were still operating under their assassination plan, at least until they could learn what the Doctor wanted them to do. Their closest allies had strangely turned out to the those hunters they'd made contact with early on. In spite of their somewhat ridiculous claims of hunting demons, they were competent and they had a lot of people slowly beginning to join their movement as they planned.

Fornell didn't follow everything from their tech-talks, but he was glad they were able to connect to so many people. That Sarah Jane woman that they had contacted before seemed to be the one leading everything. She knew the most about the Doctor, the most about the plans and had some surprisingly advanced technology – her supercomputer was apparently just the tip of the iceberg as they learned she also had a robotic dog she called K-9. Abby and Garcia had both exclaimed jealously at that and McGee had started to wonder if he could build one before Tony started teasing him about needing a fake dog instead of a real one.

Hotch and Jessica were sitting on the ratty old couch with Jack between them, his head resting on Jessica's arm as they told him a story to help him get to sleep after he'd had a nightmare. Morgan and Reid were talking to Ducky and Gibbs about battle strategies and the next weapons run that they needed to make – Reid was still upset that he wasn't allowed to leave, but everyone remained adamant about keeping him safe. Tony and Prentiss were cooped up on a blanket on the floor, another blanket wrapped around them. Tony had his arm around Prentiss' shoulder.

Fornell was certain it wouldn't be long before those two stop pretended to just be close friends.

Rossi turned toward Fornell and frowned, "What is?"

It took Fornell a moment to remember his question and then he looked back out at the eclectic group of people who'd become allies and friends over the last few months. "How normal this all seems," he said. "I swear, sometimes it really doesn't feel like the Apocalypse is hanging over our heads,"

Rossi nodded, but his eyes were distant, "Until you hear on one of the Master's broadcasts that someone you knew is dead now," he said, shaking his head. "And what happened to Japan…"

Fornell's face hardened a bit at that and he nodded, "We'll get this son of a bitch," he said, "It might take time but…" he looked around again at the group, "these are some damn good people. We'll get him."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"Is it finished yet?" Sherlock asked, leaning over to watch Tosh and Jake as they worked. In the last few months, they managed to get entirely out of Wales and were somewhere just outside of London, though nothing was really recognizable any longer so they might as well have been anywhere.

They were not far from one of the larger weapons factories and had made a safe home in what Sherlock said had once been a bomb shelter. It had needed quite a bit of work to be livable, but they had needed somewhere to stay hidden where they wouldn't have to be so mobile any longer and it had been perfect. Tosh had set up her laptop and eventually managed to connect to Archangel, where she was surprisingly greeted by a whole network of hackers trying to break in.

They began to plan and converse over the network in code – the code was ever evolving to become harder to crack and Tosh hoped eventually they would be confident enough with it for her to start sharing the Doctor's plan around to world to help Martha a bit. They'd even been able to speak to Martha a few times and tried to keep in touch with Kate as well. Both women were traveling quite a lot, but neither were always able to stay in touch, which could be annoying.

As soon as they'd learned – from a group of agents in the USA via Sarah Jane – about the Toclafane's weakness to electrical charges, Tosh had set about making a weapon that would help them disable a Toclafane so that they could try to figure out what they were and if they had any other weaknesses.

It was slow going, unfortunately, and getting parts for the device wasn't exactly a walk in the park, but Tosh felt she was getting close and Jake had a pretty good grasp on engineering himself and had been helping her a lot.

Owen was… better. He still hardly talked to anyone and they all avoided talking about the incident a couple of months ago whenever he discharged his gun very near Sherlock's head. He swore he wasn't trying to kill him, but if Sherlock had gotten out of the way as quickly as he had, Tosh feared he would've been dead. After that though, Owen seemed to simmer down. He didn't speak much, but he was a lot less volatile than he had been. He stuck mostly to tending to John wound. John was getting better at moving around, though he had a very pronounced limp and it was obvious that walking hurt him.

For his part, Sherlock seemed unfazed by his near-death experience and remained as unflappable as always. Tosh had to wonder sometimes whether or not Sherlock was truly human.

She smacked the tall man's hand away as he reached for the weapon and shook her head, "Not yet," she said, "We're nearly there."

Jake handed her a small metal piece and she bent her head to fasten it to the device – which looked very much like a over-large gun fashioned out of spare bits of scrap – and after several more adjustments she straightened up, smiling broadly.

"Finished!" she said, "Now we just need to find a Toclafane and test it."

"Should be too difficult," John said, glancing toward the exit, "They're everywhere out there. We can go out tonight and have a look,"

"I think myself and Jake should do it," Sherlock said, "We're the best shots of all of us, after all."

Owen started to protest, but Tosh sent him a pleading sort of look and he consented, nodding his head.

"Alright," Jake grinned, lifting the gun, studying it carefully, "Can't wait to try this bad boy out and fry some of those metal monsters…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Spencer grimaced when the Master's hand dropped heavily down on his shoulder and squeezed tightly. He wanted to move away, but the Master held him in place and his hands were bound tightly behind his back, much like the Doctor's and Clive, Francine and Tish's. Jack was strapped down with heavy chains and had two guards on him, unable to move or do anything except send angry glares at the Master.

They were all on the upper deck, surrounded by guards and staring down at the earth below, watching as the fires leapt higher and consumed everything. Though they couldn't make out much detail from where they were, the Master had been more than happy to tell them exactly what was happening. Japan was burning. Slowly and horribly. There had been a "mishap" in one of the factories that had set off an explosion that had been burning for three days now, spreading across the island nation.

In the past few months, they had made two more escape attempts, the second less than a week ago. It had very nearly succeeded, which had put the Master in a foul mood to say the least. Spencer was no longer being kept in the conference room at night and instead found himself either chained up in the lower cells – alone and separate from the others – or chained in the Master's bedroom.

The Doctor looked the worst of all – battered and bruised and still bleeding in some places. Spencer wasn't sure how much more he could take, but he seemed to be handling it fairly well. Far better than the Jones family. Tish had a hollow, empty look in her eyes and Spencer wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to recover from what was happening. He hoped desperately that they would eventually be able to get her and her family off the ship. So far they hadn't been successful, but the Doctor was adamant that they keep trying anyway, even if he wasn't going to go with them.

Jack was still wearing his bloody clothes, his shirt torn and stained. The Master had killed him slowly, making him wait days to die, slowly torturing him and keeping him right on the brink of death before allowing him to finally sink into it.

He'd made the Doctor and Reid watch that. Spencer had begun having nightmares and the Master seemed entirely too pleased about that. Not only that, but Lucy was withdrawing further into herself and after the Master had punished her – Spencer didn't know what he did to her, only that she had abruptly changed, becoming an even more empty version of herself – she refused to speak to anyone unless the Master told her to.

Their best ally was completely dead inside and Spencer wished there was something he could do for her, but he was having enough trouble just trying to protect himself. He felt useless. And disgusting as the Master moved his hand from his shoulders and to his hair, tugging his head back and angling it so that he _had _to look at the fire burning below.

"I could probably save them," he said, "but I'm not really in the mood after that stunt you pulled. Maybe if you'd been better behaved all those people wouldn't have to be dying slowly right now…"

Reid's stomach twisted and he wanted to close his eyes, but he'd already tried that and the Master had nearly broken one of his ribs so he kept his eyes on the fire and tried not to cry. He could hear the Doctor choking back something that sounded like a curse or a sob and he wanted to hug him, to hold him and tell him that this wasn't his fault. The Master especially didn't want them speaking to each other, however, and Reid knew better than to try to say anything with him so close.

He'd thought he felt hopeless before, but watching an entire nation burn below and feeling overwhelmingly like there had been something he should have done was the lowest place Spencer had ever been before. They still had so long before the weapons would be ready and the Master's plan for universal war would be implemented. He hoped desperately that wherever she was, Martha was getting the word out about the plan. He hoped that the Doctor was right about this, because he wasn't sure what he would do if the plan failed.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Alright guys, you've gotta sing happy birthday with me because by an astounding coincidence, today is this story's one year anniversary! I started this story a full year ago and it's still going. Holy crap that's amazing to me.

I really felt like the story wasn't moving fast enough. Things are going to move a lot faster now, though I don't expect any more large time-skips, at least for a while. A few days, a couple of weeks at the most. I want to move this along at a better pace.

Also: the line from Charlie about the evil guys needing a special sword is totally stolen from her first episode on Supernatural, "The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo".

And that's all. I rambled on for too long already. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please, please review!


	24. Part III: The Year of Hell: Chapter 19

**Title: **Armageddon

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

**A/N: **Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed! I appreciate your thoughts! And I am happy that for the first time in a very long time I don't have to apologize for taking forever to post a new chapter.

You should all thank my mom for being so incredibly awesome by letting me use her laptop in the wee hours of the morning because it's going to take around $200 to fix mine...

Anyway, hope you enjoy! And please review!

* * *

**Armageddon:**

**Part III: **_**The Year of Hell**_

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

"It should not be this cold in California," Shawn muttered, tugging the thin coat closer to himself. The early morning air was frigid and the sky was overcast. Lassiter's eyes followed Shawn's gaze and he frowned, shaking his head.

"It could be worse, Spencer," he said gruffly, "at least there aren't any Toclafane bastards around right now."

"Yeah, but for how long?" Rigsby looked anxious, "We need to get moving."

Nodding, the other two followed Rigsby as he made his way down the empty street, gun in hand. Their search party was small that morning. Lisbon had wanted to go with them, but Patrick eventually convinced her to stay with him while he tried to help Grace get their laptop up and running – it had been out of commission for several weeks and though Grace wasn't a computer expert, she was very quickly teaching herself a lot.

Dr. Holloway was still tending to the sick child and Henry had wanted to come, but Shawn had begged him to stay with Juliet to make sure that she was alright, despite the fact that Juliet was perfectly alright.

They maneuvered their way through the greater part of Sacramento, carefully dodging patrols and grateful that there were very few Toclafane out that morning. The temperature only rose a few degrees and Shawn was still unhappily mumbling about it when Rigsby called out as loud as he dared, informing them that they were going to head back to the safe house after one more round through what had once been a rather nice hotel.

Shawn's spirits fell as they stepped over debris. The area had obviously been abandoned, but Shawn spotted signs of clean-up in some places. The Master was probably going to knock the hotel down to make room for another of his factories or maybe a work camp. Either way, anyone hiding here would have had to have gotten there recently to avoid having been killed or captured.

His hopes were not high, but he tried not to let that show as they began pushing doors open and searching rooms, careful not to make too much noise as the afternoon sun shown frostily from the sky. There would be more Toclafane buzzing around soon as more of the workers were out and about and they needed to be careful of being spotted.

It was several minutes before Lassiter suddenly froze, holding up a hand and clicking the safety off on his gun.

"What?" Rigsby hissed, easing up behind Lassiter with Shawn close behind him, anxiously looking between the two men.

"Did you hear that?" Lassiter glanced back at them before zeroing in on a door not ten yards ahead. Or, more accurately, a door_way_. The actual door part had been torn off, though Shawn couldn't tell for sure if it was recent or it the door had been a casualty of the Decimation months ago.

They slowly edged toward the entrance, but before they could get there a woman suddenly burst out, holding what looked like a long metal pipe in her hands. Her red hair was a mess, her eyes wide and her grip on the pipe was a bit shaky, but she held it with the obvious intent to bash someone's brains in.

"Who are you people?" her voice was high pitched and a bit suspicious, not that Shawn could blame her. Who wasn't suspicious these days?

Lassiter answered, "We're friends," he said, "Carlton Lassiter, former SBPD Head Detective," Shawn couldn't stop the smile on his face at the way Lassiter still addressed himself as "head detective" as if that mattered anymore.

"Wait," the woman cut him off before he could continue, "Lassiter? Like… Lassie?"

Lassiter made a face and Shawn grinned brightly, "That's exactly right!" he said, "How did you know that?" His voice dropped seriously, but there was a light note in his voice, "Are you psychic?"

Lassiter scoffed, but the girl wasn't paying attention, turning around into the room, where they could hear someone shuffling around a bit. A moment later, a grey cat darted out and nearly hit Lassiter in the face. He barely managed not to shoot the poor animal. And then Shawn thought he was going crazy when he heard the voice he hadn't thought he'd get to hear again.

"Shawn? Oh my god, Shawn!"

Shawn felt like time slowed down – like in some dramatic movie or a soap opera – and he stared at Gus, standing there behind the red-headed woman with wide eyes full of hope and disbelief.

"Gus! Gus you're alive!"

He practically launched himself between Rigsby and Lassiter, nearly knocking down the young woman as he gripped Gus tightly around the shoulders, closing his eyes and feeling like things might just actually be okay. Even hugging his best friend, it still felt like some strangely optimistic dream until he pulled back and glanced down, noticing for the first time that his friend wasn't entirely _whole._

"Gus! What happened to your hand?"

Gus winced, "I got caught by some Toclafane," he said, "Charlie probably saved my life," he nodded toward the red head and smiled at her gratefully, but she just shrugged and blushed a bit.

It took Shawn a minute, staring down at the place where his friend's hand had once been, but he sucked in a deep breath and grabbed the stubbed wrist. "This could work," he said, very seriously, "We could get you, like, a hook for your hand… And a pirates hat, a big one…"

Gus grinned brightly, laughing and Shawn frowned for a second, "What?"

Gus didn't say anything, reaching out and tugging Shawn into another hug. There were tears in his voice, but Shawn didn't want to cry. He didn't want to taint this moment.

"I missed you, buddy…"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Martha and Kate greeted each other like old friends inside of St. Basil's. The once beautiful Cathedral was doomed to be demolished in favor of expanding the Master's factories, which already covered a great deal of Russia anyway. Martha didn't want to imagine the devastation that the Master could accomplish with the weapons he was building.

"It's so good to see you, Martha!" Kate said, smiling as she led the younger woman down into one of the few still livable areas inside. They were clearly getting ready to move out – it was dangerous living in right under the Master's nose. The night before Martha had stayed in one of the work camps and would probably spend tonight with another, begging them to spread the word.

"You too," Martha nodded, "It's been ages. I take it things aren't going well?"

Kate shook her head defeated, "Not here and farther east they're even worse. Things are looking bad, Martha. You heard about Japan?"

"I was there," Martha said, her voice hushed, "When the explosion went off…" her eyes got distant, "Must've hit the wrong thing on the Vortex Manipulator, because one moment I was in Germany, the next I was in Tokyo. I spent a couple of days there before the fires started… Barely got out in time. I tried to get people to come with me, but it was chaos and there were explosions and fires everywhere…"

Kate put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "You did your best, Martha,"

She sighed heavily, "It doesn't feel like it," she said, "I can still hear the screaming…" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remind herself that there would be time enough for her to dwell on this once it was all over.

"What about in the West?" she asked, "I heard things are getting rough in North America."

Kate snorted, "Things are really rough over there and they aren't looking to wait on hearing the Doctor's plan. They're arming themselves for all out war right now. You know how Americans are. Guns blazing, glorious death." She huffed and Martha almost smiled.

"I'll just have to convince them the Doctor's plan is smarter," she said, "Won't be easy, but I've managed to do it so far."

Kate nodded, "That you have and we're lucky for it. Heard about that narrow escape in France… Your name's really getting out there, Martha. Everyone is talking about you now."

Martha felt a bit strange hearing that, "Suppose that's a good thing; they'll be expecting me when I show up. I just hope the Master doesn't catch on before I can get back to London…"

"He won't," Kate assured her, "Which reminds me, we've been working on the second half of the weapon. It's currently in transit, from Kenya. We're trying to move it to Australia. Once you're headed in that direction, we'll send word along. Just make sure that you stay in touch through the network."

"I try," Martha sighed. It wasn't as difficult as it had been in the beginning, but it was still not easy for her to stay in contact with the hacker network. There weren't enough people who had computers – the work camps were now devoid of any electronics except the televisions that were used for the Master to deliver his speeches and to keep everyone updated on the List. Not surprisingly, Martha's name had moved its way to the very top of the list as the more important political and military figures were taken care of.

As they walked, Kate continued catching Martha up on everything that was in development. As far as they knew, there had yet to be a confirmed capture of a Toclafane, but there were many attempts happening around the world. Kate was working with the locals in Moscow and a handful of fugitive UNIT soldiers to build a weapon that would fire an electrical bolt. It was crude at the moment, but they were hoping to eventually be able to implement traps to capture and study as many of the aliens as possible.

As they reached the living area – cluttered with debris and bits of scrap and people talking quietly, looking too thin and sickly – Martha sighed and felt a pang of desperation in her chest. They all greeted her like a hero and she tried to smile through it, wanting to deny their praise with everything in her.

She didn't of course, and instead just asked that they hear her out while she told them a story, a story about a man and his blue box and how he planned to save the world.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Sherlock's dark curls moved slightly in the faint wind as he and Jake crept at the edges of the city. They wanted to avoid being inside the city if they could; the less attention that they drew to themselves, the better.

The weapon was large and cumbersome, but Jake's supernatural strength – which was still a mystery to everyone, even Sherlock didn't have an answer for it – allowed him the carry it with ease. Tosh wanted to try to build a weapon that wouldn't be so difficult to handle, but they had wanted something mobile so that they could move it around if they needed to relocate quickly.

"So what are we going to do?" Jake glanced at Sherlock, deciding to let him call the shots for now. He had no interest in getting into an argument with the other man. "Sit here and wait until one of the little bastards buzzes by and try to shoot it down?"

"That would be the idea, yes," Even agreeing with someone, Sherlock sounded remarkably condescending. Jake was amazed that Owen and John were able to put up with it – especially John who for the longest time hadn't had the ability to walk away whenever Sherlock got annoying.

They had barely been settled into their hiding spot when they heard rustling noise somewhere behind them. At first, Jake assumed it was an animal, but the rustling picked up and Sherlock suddenly shushed him. The taller man rose to his feet soundlessly – a feat Jake would never stop being amazed by – and carefully stepped through the trees.

Jake frowned, remaining quiet as he maneuvered his body so that he was facing the rustling noises and waited. Several minutes of silence had his heart thudding in his chest and his hand gripping the handgun at his hip. When the rustling picked up again, louder and closer than before, Jake aimed the gun and narrowed his eyes, holding his breath.

Seconds went by and suddenly two people burst through the low hanging branches. Jake's finger tensed over the trigger, but he stopped himself from squeezing it just in time when he recognized Sherlock and Owen standing in front of him.

"Owen? What the hell are you doing out here?"

Owen was breathing heavily, ignoring the disdainful look that Sherlock was giving him. He offered Jake a somewhat embarrassed smile and shrugged, "Tosh and John can watch the base for a couple of hours. I couldn't stand being stuck in that place any longer."

Jake raised a brow, "So you followed us? Owen, that was stupid. You didn't have backup."

Owen lifted his gun, "I had all the backup I needed right here," he said.

Jake sighed and shook his head, but didn't bother saying anything else. There really was no point in arguing when Owen was already there. "Fine," he said, "Better settle in. The patrols usually start in about half an hour so we've got some time to kill…"

True to his word, the Toclafane began their nightly patrols exactly twenty-five minutes later. As quietly as possible, Jake stood with the heavy, bulky weapon and balanced it on his shoulder, squinting in the darkness. His knees began to ache and his muscles burned from holding the position as he waited for a Toclafane to drift into his line of sight, but Jake didn't show any of the signs.

Even after all this time, Owen still marveled at how easily Jake handled the hefty weapon as if it weighed nothing. He crept up behind the taller man, feeling Sherlock standing next to him and tensing a bit at the closeness of the other man. He felt wrong standing there with Sherlock so close and not trying to strangle him.

"Come on," Jake hissed between his teeth, finger hovering over the button to activate the gun. It was nearly five more minutes before his eyes flew wide open and he pressed the button, the kickback sending him flying several feet through the air and knocking Owen onto his backside.

"He hit it!" Sherlock exclaimed, not bothering to look back and check on his fallen comrades – they were groaning in pain and therefore alive – and instead starting out toward the fallen alien.

Before he could reach the metal sphere, however, it flickered, buzzing jerkily as it fought to lift itself into the air again. It emitted what sounded horrifying like a child's scream and began yelling, bellowing out that there were fugitives nearby. The sound of human voices soon after sent Sherlock spinning in the opposite direction. He could hear the thundering fall of footsteps alongside the buzzing of the Toclafane now and though he didn't want to admit it, a sliver of fear worked its way into his chest.

He didn't scream or call out, however, instead making his way in the dark back to where he, Jake and Owen had been laying in wait. Jake was back on his feet, already holding the gun and turning to run toward the base. Owen was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Owen?" Jake tried not to yell whenever Sherlock grabbed him by the arm on the run, dragging him along.

"I didn't see him," Sherlock said, "it's dark! We have to keep moving!"

Just as the words left him mouth, the gunfire started and the dark night was lit with the lasers from the Toclafane. Grass and trees were singed and the night came alive with the burst of bullets in the air. Jake kept looking back over his shoulder, hoping to see Owen there somewhere, but the area was empty save their pursuers. Sherlock tugged him along, ignoring his anxiousness.

"Here!" Sherlock suddenly shoved Jake down, diving in after him. For a second, Jake wasn't sure where they were and then he recognized the dense, putrid smell and the dampness at his feet and around his ankles. An old water main or sewer pipe then. His stomach turned at the smell, but he had little time to focus on that as Sherlock pushed him farther in, securing their hiding place.

The footsteps and the whirring went by without pause and Jake held his breath (partly because of the smell). Several tense minutes passed before the footsteps came near again, gruff voices speaking in thick accents that made them difficult to understand, at least for Jake. Sherlock heard them easily however.

"He must've had a partner," one of the men said, "We saw at least two sets of tracks back there."

"It's dark," another said, "They can't get far; we'll search the area once it's daylight. Double the patrols tonight."

There was a heavy pause and then another, younger voice, more timid than the other two, spoke, "Do we kill him?"

"Of course not!" the first man scoffed, "Don't you recognize him from the List? We'll turn him in to the Master. Maybe get ourselves some decent living quarters."

Jake's heart was thudding away in his chest again, his mouth dry as the men moved away. He went to leave, but Sherlock's steady hand on his shoulder held him back.

"They've got Owen!" Jake hissed.

"Yes, but not us," Sherlock's tone was matter-of-fact, "and not our weapon. We need to get back to the base and alert Toshiko and John. We have to be out of here before sunrise."

"We can't leave Owen!"

"We can and will," Sherlock said, his voice flat and cold, "If we risk rescuing him now we'll only make things worse. He's dead already. Don't add your own death to the list needlessly."

Jake scowled, but didn't move, muttering under his breath, "You really are a cold bastard, you know that?"

"I've been informed, yes, now kindly shut up before they hear us."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Charlie wandered around the safe house to get away from the enthusiastic reunion between Gus and his friends. She's been hugged and thanked and touted as practically a goddess for helping Gus – which, she had to admit, was kind of awesome – and felt just slightly smothered whenever Juliet hugged her for the third time.

Shawn was every bit what Gus had described to her. Never quite shutting up, making strange references to movies and – for some reason – bemoaning the fact that they didn't have a smoothie to celebrate finding Gus. Apparently, he hadn't been himself since Gus had disappeared, at least according to Juliet, and this was the first time he'd really smiled in a long time.

It was nice, but Charlie was used to being on her own and at the first opportunity, she scooped up Gandalf and made her way toward the back where the bedrooms were. She spotted a few people – Grace, the doctor, tending to a sick child with a brown haired woman Charlie vaguely remembered was named Teresa; Rigsby talking with a man she hadn't been introduced to yet with blond, messy curls and another red-headed woman sitting on a mattress with a laptop, frowning at it.

She tapped gently on the wall before entered, smiling awkwardly at the woman, "Uh, knock-knock," she said.

The woman looked up and smiled, "Oh, hi!" she said, "You must be the woman who came in with Shawn's friend. I meant to go introduce myself…"

"No worries," Charlie smiled good-naturedly and perched on the edge of the somewhat lumpy mattress, peering over the woman's shoulder to view the laptop screen. It was blinking bright blue, with white numbers and letters flashing across the screen.

"I'm Charlie, by the way," she said.

"Grace,"

"Isn't the doctor named Grace?"

Grace smiled, "There are two of us," she said.

Charlie grinned a bit, "Two Graces… And you're both ginger. Not like you couldn't use a third," she flipped her hair playfully and Grace laughed.

"Is that your cat?" she reached out and tentatively scratched at the grey cat's ears, smiling as he purred quietly.

"Sort of," Charlie shrugged, "I unofficially adopted him. Or he adopted me. I'm not really sure. His name's Gandalf."

"That is a great name," Grace said, "I wonder if he does real magic…"

Charlie snorted, "That'd be awesome. We could totally send him in to the _Valiant_ and he could take down the Master and his flying monkeys with a few words."

Grace smiled for a moment, but then her shoulders slumped again as she sighed, the laptop screen going entirely blue and the flashing letters disappearing.

"Trouble with the laptop?"

"Yeah," Grace sighed, "it's been out of commission for months. We're trying to get it back online so we can try to communicate with others…"

"I'm good with computers," Charlie said, "Great, actually. It's kind of my thing… Mind if I take a look?"

"Knock yourself out," Grace passed the computer over to Charlie and she smiled, settling more comfortably on the bed with the laptop in front of her. Her fingers moved fluidly over the keys as she tapped away. After a few minutes, she looked up, giving Grace a calculating look before turning her attention back to the computer. With any luck, they'd be connected to Archangel by the next day.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The Master had led them all into the conference room after over an hour on the deck watching Japan slowly burn. He looked ready to continue the torment when Lucy entered the room, her dead eyes wide as she whispered something urgently to her husband. The Master froze for a moment, his body going taut, before a malicious grin spread across his face.

"Excellent!" he said, "Come with me." He practically dragged Lucy out of the room and the Doctor could have sworn she sent him an apologetic look before stumbling after the Master. As soon as they left, the guards in the room relaxed a bit, but kept their hold on their guns tightly. They knew better than to let the prisoners escape under their watch. Still, they wouldn't stop them from talking.

They weren't chained up aside from Jack who had been shoved into a chair and chained down in every conceivable way. The Joneses sat huddled together at the end of the table, Tish still looking like a hollow version of herself while her mother wrapped her arms around her tightly.

"We have to get them out of here, Doctor," Reid's voice startled him. It sounded almost as hollow as Tish look and the Doctor didn't like the way Spencer's eyes seemed to stare off at nothing sometimes, seeing horrors inside of his mind.

"You all need to get out of here," the Doctor said, not quite looking at the younger man as he spoke. He kept his attention on Jack, trying not to think too much about that last gruesome death and Jack's screams as the pain became too much for even him to handle.

Spencer turned to stare at the Doctor, his lips folded together, "I don't want to leave you here alone,"

"It's not up for debate, Spencer," the Doctor said, "If we can make a successful escape, you and the Joneses and Jack are leaving. He won't kill me. He might kill you or any one of them."

Spencer didn't argue that time, sighing heavily. "We need to find someone to help us," he said, "Lucy won't do it again. Not after the first time…" he cringed thinking of how empty she'd looked after their first unfortunately escape attempt. They never did learn exactly how the Master had gotten her to tell him about the attempt.

"That's not going to be easy," Jack said. His voice sounded ragged. "No one on this ship wants the Master to turn on them and they've got families to think about too. Lucy was our best bet and she fell through pretty quick."

"We've got to think of something," Reid said, his eyes going to Tish again, "They're going to fall apart if they have to keep living through this nightmare."

"So will you," the Doctor said gently, finally looking at Spencer fully. The younger man shrugged and shook his head.

"And you won't?" he asked.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

McGee's lips turned down into a frown as the monitor in front of him beeped. Abby and Garcia were, for once, away from the computers, chattering away with little Jack and Gibbs. It was really early in the morning and things were still moving a little sluggish for everyone. Everyone except Jack, that is. He seemed to be wide awake and was quite enjoying the attention he was getting.

"Hey guys," McGee called out, taking a quick sip of his coffee, "We just got a message from Sarah Jane…"

Only Reid, Ducky and Gibbs moved to stand around the computer. Tony and Prentiss stayed where they were, seated on the old couch next to Jessica. Hotch wandered in from the kitchen with Fornell and Rossi not far behind.

"What's up, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh," McGee frowned, taking a moment to decipher what was written. He, Abby and Garcia had gotten good at reading the code quickly over the last few months of studying it and partly helping develop it.

"Torchwood Three tested their weapon… it slowed the Toclafane down, but didn't kill it. Oh… One of their people was taken…" his trailed off, his voice going soft, "Sarah Jane says they'll be out of communication for a while because they had to relocate quickly."

"Damn," Gibbs swore and frowned.

"Did she say anything else?" Tony called from where he was sitting.

"Hang on," McGee muttered impatiently, "Okay, yeah. She says she got lucky a couple of hours ago when she took K-9 out on a food run and he hit a Toclafane directly with his laser."

"He shoots lasers!" Abby practically squealed, "God, that's so unfair…"

"Yeah," McGee said, "Apparently he's fired on Toclafane before, but this is the first time he's directly hit one. She's going to try and crack it open and figure out what's inside, but she wants to attempt a video feed. She thinks she can manage it. It'll be short, but we'd get to see what we're dealing with. She wants to set up a time when we can all link up so we'd be connected to whoever else is able to get a feed…"

He looked up, eyes going immediately to Gibbs.

"Sounds like a plan," Hotch was the one who answered.

"How long does she think it'll take to get the feed established?" Garcia asked.

"A day or two," McGee said, "She wants to make sure it's secure so the Master doesn't catch the scent. If he picks up the feed he might be able to trace it back to every one of us…"

"It's risky," Ducky said, "but worth it, I think."

"The more we know about the Toclafane the better,"

"So we're all in agreement then?" Gibbs asked, eyeing them all. When no protest came, he turned to McGee, nodding. "Alright then. Tell her we're in."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"It's risky," Rufus muttered, frowning at Ash. Ash, Sam, Gordon, Henricksen and Martin were all gathered in the now cramped feeling eating area. Ash was sitting at his computer, explain to them the message he'd just received from Sarah Jane Smith about the video feed of the Toclafane she'd taken down with her robot dog.

"Yeah, but my gun isn't ready yet," Ash motioned to the half-assembled jumble of parts that in no way resembled a gun. "We're gonna need to know all we can know about those little bastards if we're really planning on attacking the Master within the next couple of months."

"I think Ash is right," Sam agreed, "this is something we've gotta do. The more weakness we can find in the Toclafane, the better our odds. I mean, we don't know anything about them right now except that bullets don't work and their somehow sentient metal balls…"

"Maybe," Gordon didn't look convinced, "but if that feed is traced back to us we don't have any way of fighting 'em off right now. How do you propose we deal with that?"

"Make sure we're ready to go if something goes wrong," Henricksen said swiftly, "We can find another safe house. This is a chance to see what's inside the Toclafane firsthand."

"See them firsthand how?" Dean frowned as he entered the room with Garth and Adam right behind him.

"Sarah Jane," Ash explained, "her robo-dog killed a Toclafane. She wants to set up a video feed to connect us all to her so we can watch while she cuts into it to see what they're made of."

"What you mean they're not made of snips and snails and puppy dog tails?" Dean muttered. "So what's the problem?"

"If the Master finds the feed, he could probably track it back to whoever is connected to it. Which means he would know immediately where we are and we'd either be dead or out of the safe house…"

Dean frowned, "I say go for it," he said, "The Master wants to try to screw with us, we've got explosives. Let him come."

"Dean," Sam frowned and Gordon rolled his eyes.

"You're just ready to go out in a blaze of glory aren't you, Winchester?"

Dean glared at him, "Damn right I am. I'm more than willing to die trying to take this son of a bitch down,"

"Taking unnecessary risks is stupid," Sam snapped, "You just want to go on a suicide mission."

"And?"

"And I'm not gonna let that happen, Dean," Sam said, "You're not killing yourself on my watch."

"Whatever," Dean muttered.

The air was tense, everyone falling silent for a moment. Rufus slowly cleared his throat, "So we're gonna do it then?"

"Sounds like our best option right now," Garth said, "We've got to study them somehow and Ash is still working on his weapon."

"Alrighty," Ash banged away on the keys, "Sarah Jane's got herself a few more audience members. Here's to us figuring out how to destroy those little assholes."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **For the record, I hate writing Ash. He's so difficult to get right. *pout*

Also, seriously, can you believe I got this posted so fast? I feel like celebrating. I've already got an outline (in my head) for the next chapter and I'm working on setting it down on paper now. So hopefully I'll be able to post the next chapter soon. (HINT: It involves the video feed. And Owen. Also, Gabriel might make an appearance. If not next chapter then very soon.)

Anyway. Hope you enjoyed! Please, please review! Love it, hate it, I just wanna hear your thoughts!


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